The Firebird
by Kyla Baines
Summary: Tragedy strikes Bethany's world when her older sister is killed. Now, the responsibility of her family rests on her shoulders as she struggles to get them safely to Kirkwall. Here, she and the men that grow to love her must travel paths filled with intrigue and deceit, love and betrayal, before they find true happiness. Bethany/Anders/Fenris .
1. Chapter 1

_**Update: **As of November 3, 2012, my pen name has changed from Rhapsody88 to **Kyla Baines**._

* * *

**Prologue**

_I never wanted this. I never wanted to be the one to take my family away from our home in Lothering, or the reason that we never were part of a true community there. I'm not even a real leader; I much prefer to follow along and do what's asked of me. _She_ was the true leader, not me. Now I find myself in a foreign place with what's left of my family, and no idea where to go from here._

_How did I even get here, though? I suppose that the easy answer is that the encroaching Blight in Ferelden forced us here. Things are always far more complicated than you can sum up in a simple sentence, though. My family and I fled Lothering just as the refugee tents on the edge of town began to burn, silhouetting the town behind us in a blood red haze as twilight approached. We barely made it out before the first of the darkspawn crashed through the gates. We ran through the night, and the following morning the real trouble began. _

_We met up with Aveline and her wounded (templar) husband, and decided that there was strength in numbers. Mother suggested that Kirkwall might be our best option, and most of us agreed that it was the _only_ option. Everything went fairly well until that afternoon. We managed to hold back the small groups of darkspawn that we encountered, and were all beginning to feel confident that we would make it to Gwaren._

_We walked into an open area that looked down on the passage that would lead us through the Brecilian Forest and eventually to Gwaren. That is when all things fell apart._

_Aveline looked down at her feet as she made to set her shield down for a moment, intending to unpack something to eat. Little pebbles began to jump around her boots, and we all began to back up slowly. Then, the most monstrous sight I have ever seen thundered into view. _

_At least twelve feet of pure evil stood perfectly still for a moment, regarding all of us with its small, vile eyes, topped by wickedly curling horns. It's sickly grey skin was mottled and covered in open sores and warts, and the smell – Maker, the smell coming off of it – almost floored all of us right then._

_Suddenly, it charged, and all of us dove off to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid being crushed by the ogre. Carver and I found ourselves to one side, and Marian was off to the other with Mother. The thing looked around and fixed its gaze on Wesley and Aveline, who were still down. Carver and I dashed at it together, determined to stop it from killing anyone in our group. _

_We were too late. Marian, with the uncanny speed of the rogue, had already leapt on its back and drew her daggers, preparing to drive them deep into the creature's skull. She was unprepared for it to spin, though. She lost her balance, and fell to the ground. It picked her up, and, crushing my sister in its iron grip, smashed her into the rocky ground over and over. I was numb with shock, praying with more fervor than I ever had before that the Maker would save her. Carver and Aveline managed to finally slay it, and then we turned to the bloodied and broken body that was my older sister. _

_I knelt down next to her, and she was barely breathing. As I reached down to wipe her short, dark hair to the side, her green eyes fluttered open. I began weaving together the only healing spell that I knew, but her cold hand rested gently on my arm._

"_Bethy... Get them… away…"_

_I barely saw her draw her final breath through the tears that began to fall. I vaguely remember hearing Mother start to scream. Other than that, it was eerily silent._

_My sister – consummate survivor… fearless leader… mediator when we disagreed… best friend – gone. Forever._

_It didn't sink in when a dragon flew overhead, bathing the incoming darkspawn in flame, saving us from certain death. Nor did it faze me when the dragon turned into a woman who offered to help us get to Gwaren in return for a favor. I vaguely remember Carter asking my opinion on this mysterious figure, but I do not know what I might have answered. _

_Nor did I understand the depth of my loss as I barely noticed the haunting beauty of the forest where the Dalish were rumored to be. It didn't even sink in when we arrived in Gwaren and boarded a ship filled with refugees just like us. I suppose it finally truly hit me when we met up with dear Uncle Gamlen. He made some snide comment, muttering under his breath, about one less mouth to feed. I let him know exactly how I felt about that comment by breaking his nose. I like to think that she would have been proud of me – her non-confrontational sister – at that moment._

_And now, here we are: the City of Chains. One of the most dangerous places for a mage like me to be, Blight or no Blight. _

_Still reeling from the loss of Marian, I find myself plagued by thoughts that she, my protective and loving sister, normally would have been considering. _

_How do I keep away from the Templars here, when I barely avoided their notice in a less rigid town?_

_How do I provide for my family, when we're just another set of needy, refugee mouths wanting to be fed?_

_Maker, how do I even begin to think of this as "home"?_

_All I know at this point is that I must fulfill my sister's dying wish, and take care of our family here in Kirkwall. Taking on this role was so natural for her, and I doubt that I will ever feel comfortable taking control. I cannot let her down, though. She took care of me all her life, and was my rock after Father died. I swear that, somehow, I will make her proud of me._

_My family has been torn away from our home in Ferelden. My sister – my protector, confidante, and best friend, is dead. I am confused and hurting, with little idea of what to do next. I am Bethany Hawke, and this is my story._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Bethany glanced around at the dilapidated, light stone buildings that lined the perpetually muddy streets of the Docks district in Kirkwall. Her jet-black hair hung in waves past her shoulders, and moved gently with the wind, framing the soft lines of her face. The smell of salt and fish gore permeated the air, and saturated her in the odor with each passing breeze.

_Lowtown may not be much to look at either, but at least it's not as damp or smelly._

Carver shifted from foot to foot edgily as he stood slightly apart from his twin, every so often glancing in her direction. His large, two-handed sword glinted eerily in the late afternoon sun, throwing small patterns of light onto a building just down the street.

Finally, a small figure flanked by two much larger ones stepped out from the shadows. Carver straightened up and stopped fidgeting as Bethany walked forward to meet the trio.

"Athenril," she said, nodding her head in greeting to the petite, brown-haired elf.

"Well, kids, I suppose your year is up, isn't it?" the elf replied, folding her arms loosely. It wasn't a question. "I suppose that you've worked off your debt, though I think that things could have been a bit more… profitable."

Bethany restrained herself from frowning. Athenril had made no secret of her disappointment over the past year that it was not the eldest Hawke she had heard so much about from Gamlen, but rather the less notorious twins that were helping her thieving operation.

_And I suppose the two of us count for nothing, then? It's as if she thinks that she would actually be a major contender against the Coterie without us! _

"Here's your share from this last operation. Don't spend it all in one place," the smuggler mocked as she turned to walk away. She knew perfectly well that Bethany and Carver had needed to be extraordinarily frugal just to scrape by.

As the trio faded back into the shadows, Bethany sighed, remembering how Marian used to do exactly the same thing in the woods near their home in Lothering. It would frustrate Carver to no end that he was unable to keep up with his older sister in that environment. She would seemingly materialize out of the dappled backdrop the trees created, sneak up behind her brother, and steal his coin pouch before running ahead of him laughing, holding her prize above her head as she went. Bethany smiled at the memory.

_Yes, Marian _would_ have done well this past year. I can't say that we've done too terribly for ourselves though. It would just be so much better if all of us were here together, though… as a family._

"Are you _quite_ ready, Sister?"

Carver's voice, more than a hint of irritation coming through, broke through her reverie.

"Yes, I suppose that Mother and Uncle Gamlen will want to hear the good news."

As they began the winding and uphill walk back to the Lowtown slums where Gamlen's excuse for a home was located, Carver began speaking. It was the same thing that he had told Bethany a thousand times these past months.

"Now that we've worked this debt off, I think that I'll go see Aveline right away. If I can become a member of the City Guard, maybe I'll finally be able to make something of myself, and not have to worry about living in this shithole anymore." Here, he shot Bethany a look that she knew all too well; the look that said _I blame you for this mess we're in_.

She had grown accustomed to it, though, and all too used to his self-serving attitude. She chose to shrug it off. Bethany knew her brother was hurting and upset.

_Kill them with kindness_, she mused, remembering one of her father's favorite mantras.

"That would be a good idea, Carver. Perhaps you can go later today."

Carver just scowled. "Well _you_ are going to have to come with me, you know. I can't very well get into the barracks alone… they all know that Aveline likes you better than me."

"That's fine. I can come along. It would do me good to see Aveline again," not bothering to agree with her brother. What he said was true, though – Carver did tend to get off on the wrong foot with people.

Bethany smiled inwardly at the thought of her brother getting a job with the Guard thanks to her. He would hate the thought that he owed that to her! But then, Carver never _did_ fully understand the concept of helping one another just for the sake of family.

The two dark-haired siblings trudged up the steps leading to Gamlen's door, little clouds of dust spiraling around their boots. The interior was little better: the floor was a substantial layer of dirt and grime over hard stone, and the walls bare and smooth, aside from several run-down areas where small chunks of stone and mortar had fallen out, revealing the wooden beams inside the walls. There was a small, smoky blaze coming from the corner fireplace, indicating that Mother and Gamlen probably hadn't been gone long. The only other light came from the small, high windows, and a couple of candle stubs that had been carelessly stuck onto the writing table with melted wax.

Bethany walked back to the small room she shared with her mother, and carefully lifted the loose floorboard underneath their small end table. She put the handful of silver she and Carver had earned that day into the depressingly light coin pouch she kept hidden. After a moment's pause she transferred five silvers to her smaller, traveling purse she kept tied to her buckle and tucked under a fold in her robes. Carver had already taken his cut of the money, and Bethany had little doubt that he planned to squander it on drink at the Hanged Man later that night.

"Mother left us a note," she heard Carver call from the main room. "She and Uncle Gamlen went to get some food supplies for the week. This would be a good time to go to the barracks."

_Ah, and that would be where the extra coin went…_

* * *

Two hours later, Bethany found herself waiting at the top of the huge staircase leading up to the Viscount's keep where the barracks were located. She wondered what was taking so long with Carver, and hoped that it was a good thing. She had spoken only briefly with Aveline, who, upon escorting Carver to see the Guard Captain needed to head out on her patrol. According to her, the patrol schedule seemed rather odd, and organization within the Guard wasn't as good as she was used to back in Ferelden.

_Poor Aveline… She's lost so much, too. Hopefully she adjusts well to life here – at least she has a job that pays moderately well._

Leaning inconspicuously against a pillar, Bethany studied Viscount's Way. The massive white stone buildings towered far above anything else in the city, and, in this part of town were kept immaculately clean. There were enormous flags above her carrying the heraldry of the city in bright red – a beacon that drew the eye against the starkly contrasting white backdrop of the flag itself and all of the architecture. The beginnings of small vines could be seen, doggedly making their way down the sides of buildings that were not maintained quite as rigorously as the Keep itself. Bethany rather liked their appearance, though, thinking that some color actually did the area credit.

She strode forward as she saw Carver walking out of the massive front doors. By the look on his face, things had clearly not gone well.

"That damned bastard!" Carver spat out as he walked with breakneck speed down the steep stairs. "And Aveline, too! I thought she was going to put in a good word for me!"

"She said that she did, Carver," Bethany gasped out, trying to keep up with her brother's much longer strides.

"Well it obviously didn't help, did it? Andraste's tits!" he swore, not noticing Bethany's slight blush at his use of language, "I don't see why she got straight into the Guard and not me! I served at Ostagar… doesn't that count for anything?"

At this, he whirled around, "And it really all comes down to _you_, doesn't it? I _would_ have applied to join the Templar Order, you know; I've even talked to some of the newer recruits. They say it's good pay and honorable work – a damn sight better than running with Athenril, anyway – but _no_, I can't do that because my sister's a _mage_."

"Carver," Bethany replied, shocked, "I'm sorry, but please don't take out the Guard Captain's decision on me. And why in the world would you want to join the Templar Order? You know, better than most, what they do to mages! How can some of the things we've heard about be honorable?"

"Just… forget it, Sister," he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I suppose I don't really want to join the Templars. You can't deny that your… abilities… have made things difficult, though."

"No, I can't deny that," said Bethany, a hint of coldness entering her tone, "But we're family, Carver. We've always been there for each other, and I truly think that the best way to get through this is together. Marian always said –"

"Damn it, Bethany!" Carver cut her off, "Who _cares_ anymore what Marian said? She ran off alone, trying to play the hero once again, like she always had to do, and it got her killed."

"Carver," she said, pleading this time, "How can you say that? She died trying to save us! I know that's the only thing she was thinking of, not trying to 'play the hero.' Wouldn't you have done the same thing, were you in her position? Didn't we both try to do exactly that?"

"Fine, fine, let's just drop it," he snapped. "We still need to figure out a few things, though. One, how are we going to make some money in this town, and two, how do you keep out of sight of the Templars?"

Bethany tried hard to ignore his choice of words – namely, "we" for pulling in coin, but only "you" when dealing with the Templars.

"I think I may have a promising lead, actually," she said, desperately trying to get her stubborn brother back on board with her. She pulled a crumpled flyer out of her sleeve, and smoothed it out. "This man, Bartrand, is planning an expedition to the Deep Roads. He's apparently looking to hire some reliable help on. I thought, since we both _have_ fought darkspawn before, we possibly might be better qualified than others."

Carver snorted with laugher, "You in the Deep Roads, Sister? Now that's something I'd like to see"

She colored, slightly. It was no secret in their family that she still had nightmares about those two horrific days of fighting those monsters in their desperate flight from Lothering.

"I do see your point, though" he continued, "It might be worth looking into. Why don't we go speak to him now? It looks like he usually hangs about here in Hightown."

Buoyed by her brother's change of attitude, Bethany agreed. They strode through the clean streets of Hightown, Bethany barely slowing at all as they passed vendors selling the most exquisite things: fabrics of fine cotton, satin, and even silk in every color imaginable, honey and cinnamon roasted almonds that smelled sweeter than anything she had ever tasted, baskets heaping with fruits and breads that her family couldn't even imagine affording right now, and so much more.

Bethany remembered Mother telling her, as a small child, of the luxuries that she had grown up with in Kirkwall. She had hoped that she, too, would be privy to these things, but that hope was a half-forgotten and distant dream now that Gamlen had sold the Amell family estate.

_Perhaps someday, if we work hard enough, we can buy back the estate and Mother can have all of these things again_._ Maybe Carver will be happier, and I'll have a chance at a normal life, too._

Bethany and Carver emerged into a small courtyard, huge stone statues surrounding the area, carved into openings in the walls. A surly looking dwarf was standing at one end, already arguing with a group of humans. They approached, Bethany trying to look as capable as she could.

"Off with you lot! Can't you see I've better things to do than explain again why I'm not letting you come?" the dwarf yelled, then added under his breath, "Sodding bunch of nug humpers…"

Carver strode forward confidently. "I hear you're looking for some people of talent for an upcoming expedition."

"Well, la de da, if it isn't another human child who thinks that just because he has a sword, he can play with the big boys. Get lost, kid."

"But we've got experience that most of the others probably don't," Bethany broke in.

"Oh, and by the Paragons, a slip of a girl, too!" Bartrand mocked. "Why don't you run on back to Mommy and mend that tear you have in your dress. I thought I told you both, get lost and pick on someone else."

"We're serious," said Carver with force, "I guarantee that we are far better than anyone you've already hired on."

"Listen, kid, I've already told you no! Don't make me say it again. I need people who have actually weaned off their mother's teat on this job. Now get lost!"

"But we've fought darkspawn before," Bethany tried again, "How many of your men can say the same? We've even taken down an ogre!"

At this statement, Bartrand's eyes gleamed for a moment, but he shook his head and was back to being unyielding once more. "I've heard enough. Go on now, both of you."

Carver, the angry glint back in his steely blue eyes, turned to his sister and beckoned her to leave with him. "We'll find another option."

"We _have_ to," stressed Bethany, now growing worried, "We need coin… status… something we can hide behind."

"Listen, Bethany, I plan on jumping on the first opportunity I find. It's _your _Templars we're hiding from, not mine.

Trying desperately not to show her brother how much those words stung, she continued walking. "Maybe someone can talk to Bartrand for us… convince him that we're actually worth his time and money. Wait," she said, stopping under an archway overgrown with vines, "Maybe Gamlen could talk to him."

Carver coughed with doubt. "Gamlen? Are you sure? I doubt that git could identify a darkspawn if it walked up to him and said hello. But, he does seem to know everybody, and I suppose it _was_ him who got us into this whole mess."

Bethany smiled wryly. "Yes, it was. And I'm sure that he would also appreciate a chance to get rid of us for awhile, and not have to worry about _my_ Templars."

Carver stopped in his tracks. "Maker. Bethy, did I sound _that_ bad? Ugh, I'm sounding like him more and more every day."

_He may resent me, and he certainly resented Marian, but he does still love us. He's still family. Every so often it shines through._

"It's alright, Carver. I know how hard it is on you and the family. But let's just talk to Gamlen when we get back and see if he can get one of those contacts of his to help us out."

The twins continued to walk through Hightown, turning to go through the market and head back to Lowtown when Bethany stopped.

"You go ahead, Carver, I want to poke around here a bit."

"What? And dream of things that we'll never have?" he scoffed. Then, turning and waving his hand dismissively, "Fine, be my guest, Sister."

As he walked off, Bethany turned and sat on a bench near the entrance to the market, taking in the sounds and smells of the bustle all around her. No, she knew better than to torture herself by actually browsing their wares as if she had the coin to buy anything; what she really needed was some time alone.

_I'm free from Athenril, now. Why doesn't that make me feel much better? Carver's right, we need to find some way of either getting in this expedition or another job that pays well. Soon._

She was startled out of her thoughts, though, as something small, cold, and wet pressed against her hand. She looked over to see a small, mabari pup crouched down on the bench next to her, nosing her hand with curiosity. She couldn't help the small smile of delight when she scratched its head and it rolled over, begging for more.

"Well, you're a right little ray of sunshine," said a deep voice, "He seems to have taken a liking to you."

_Maker! I should know better than to let my guard down even for a moment._

Bethany turned to face the speaker, sick to her stomach that it would be the heavy plate mail and red insignia of the Templars that came into view. But no, it most certainly _wasn't_ a Templar. In fact, it was a dwarf with straw-colored hair that stood before her, a wry grin on his shaven face.

"Oh! Hello, ser. Your pup is absolutely lovely."

The dwarf waved his hand, as if to clear her words away. "No, no, Sunshine. He's not mine… He's yours. Aren't mabaris the sort of thing you Fereldens go crazy over?"

Bethany just stared. "I'm sorry, but why would you even want to give a puppy to a complete stranger? I'm afraid I don't even know your name."

Laughing as he spoke, he replied, "Why _wouldn't_ you want to give a dog to a complete stranger, is the better question! It certainly makes for a good story, doesn't it? Oh, and the name is Tethras – Varric Tethras – at your service."

* * *

**A/N:** _Alright, so here we go… I am really excited that I got such positive feedback about continuing this story, and would like to say special thanks to __**dominicgrim, ladyluck278, naomis8329, spadequeen, **__and__** Jaden Anderson**__. Additionally, a HUGE thank you to **Eve Hawke**, who has agreed to do some beta work with me and gives invaluable assistance with plot details. Enjoy :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _I would first of all like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review this so far... I really am blown away by the response that this story has gotten already! I am also incredibly lucky to have not one, but TWO amazing betas who are helping me out with this: the amazing **Eve Hawke **__and **Jaden Anderson**! I would definitely suggest checking out their work if you haven't yet... it is incredible! Please do leave me a little review to let me know what you think... they keep me writing! -Rhapsody_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The noise was quieter in the top level of the Hanged Man. As Bethany had predicted, Carver was already deep into his third pint by the time she arrived with Varric. It took a bit of coaxing to get him to hear the dwarf out, but he finally stood – rather unsteadily and grudgingly – and walked up the stairs to Varric's room.

Apparently, the dwarf was on good terms with the owner of the place, for he had managed to lease out the best room in the place indefinitely. The room itself was grungy, and still held the faint aroma of liquor and sweat that the main bar reeked of, but Varric had put out his things and decorated it to the extent that it seemed like a haven away from the rest of the establishment: drapes in rich reds and golds hung around the bed, at the foot of which was a burnished bronze shield, clearly of dwarven craftsmanship that could only have been made in Orzammar; various bottles of rare wines and other liquor that he had procured from Kirkwall and beyond; and all around the room were trinkets and tokens from all over Thedas.

_It still isn't much, but it's a far sight better than me sitting out in the open downstairs, and I don't think I ever want to go in any of the other rooms up here – Aveline's told me it's no better than the Blooming Rose!_

"Alright, Victor –" began Carver, slurring his words.

"It's 'Varric,' Brother."

"Whatever," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it of the effects of the alcohol. "So, _dwarf_, what's this that Bethany's been going on about? Something about you and this damned expedition?"

Varric chuckled. "So eloquently put, too! Well, Bartrand happens to be my older brother, and I think I might just have a way to get you both on the team." He went on to explain the finer point of his plan, interrupted by the occasional question from Bethany or scoffing remark from Carver.

"Dwarf, how do we know we can trust you?" asked Carver, finally.

"I'll tell you what, kid, if you need me to prove myself to you and your sister, just say the word and I'll help you on any job you want."

Bethany regarded him for a moment, then turned to her brother. "Why don't we have him help us clear out Grandfather's estate and find the will? If it's still there, and the slavers haven't found it yet, there may even be some gold to find as well."

Carver groaned. "Bethany, why in the name of Andraste's left tit do you still want to look for that damned will? Yes, Gamlen's an ass, but we don't need some scrap of paper to prove that."

"I just think that we owe it to Mother to look into it. Plus, it might give us some insight into buying the estate back someday."

Varric, who had been unashamedly listening in on the entire conversation broke in at this point. "Sunshine, I think that's a fantastic plan! I'm in. Let's meet here tomorrow night, and we'll head there together."

"Great," said Carver in mock excitement, "Now, if you two will bloody well leave me alone, I have another ale or three to drink."

* * *

Bethany walked slowly back to Gamlen's on her own; Carver saying he'd be back as soon as he finished his drinking. She knew that her brother was fuming about Varric, but she didn't see how they would get on the expedition without his help.

_I need to make sure that all of us stay safe and that I can stay hidden from the Templars. In our position, I think that money – and lots of it – is the only way to be sure of both of those things._

"Hello there, darling," said a deep voice, alarmingly close to her. "A little thing like you shouldn't be out this late, and all on your own, too."

"Ah, yes, well, I'm nearly home," she replied, mentally kicking herself for not paying better attention to her surroundings.

"There are lots of dangerous things that prowl Lowtown at night, love," the man said, stalking closer, his boots echoing softly in the still night air. She could smell tobacco and cheap liquor on his breath, and saw the predatory glint in his dull grey eyes, matted brown hair hanging in front of them. "Dangerous people, too. People like me."

Bethany's hand twitched at her robes, and she struggled to keep herself from pulling her staff out.

_Where in the name of the Maker is Carver when I need him? I don't dare use a spell here, there are too many people in Lowtown that would gladly report me to the Templars to make a little extra coin._

Just as she was deciding whether it would be faster to run back to the Hanged Man or to try to make it to the house, another voice broke in, this one sultry and decidedly feminine.

"Now, now, it's not nice to pick on innocent girls."

A woman, stepping out of the shadows, her skin a burnished bronze, with jet black hair pulled off her face with a carelessly tied piece of colorful fabric.

"Ho ho! This must be my lucky night!" The man leered at the newcomer, who jutted her hip out at an angle, exposing a large expanse of toned leg. "And you've even obligingly begun to undress yourself!"

Bethany couldn't help but think that he had a good point: the woman was wearing what couldn't be considered full dress in most social circles, and what she _did_ have on was so fitted and low cut it left almost nothing to the imagination. In fact, it looked suspiciously like she was just wearing a men's tunic! Granted, this tunic had clearly been modified: it was low cut, revealing a generous amount of cleavage, and the tight lacings at the top looked as though they barely contained her ample bosom. The bottom of the fabric barely grazed the tops of her thighs, and her high black boots only emphasized this fact.

"Tut, tut," the woman mocked, wagging a finger at him as he skulked toward her. "Such poor manners. I may just have to teach you some."

The man was right in front of her now, and Bethany thought it would almost be worth exposing her magic when the woman whipped a wickedly curved dagger from… somewhere… and pointed it directly at the man's face.

"Now, darling," the wench murmured, her voice smooth as silk, "Why don't you go on and crawl back into whatever pit you came from and leave us girls to our evening, hmm?"

Bethany watched in astonishment as the lowlife stumbled away, and turned to greet the woman who was sauntering towards her.

"Well, I certainly see why he was interested," she said, making no effort to hide the way her eyes raked up and down Bethany's body. "Even with all that clothing on, you've got me practically purring."

"Ah… Well, thank you for your help, messere," Bethany replied, at a loss for how to handle this situation. The woman just laughed.

"Oh, darling… 'messere?' There is certainly no need for such a title with me. You can simply call me Isabela – formerly, Captain Isabela – pirate, thief, temptress, and duelist extraordinaire. Now, I insist that you allow me to escort you home, seeing as you're _far _too much of a temptation for thugs and pirates alike."

The two of them walked slowly to Gamlen's house, the moonlight barely peeking through the clouded sky to light their way. Isabela told Bethany that she was planning on staying in Kirkwall for a time, and could almost always be found at the Hanged Man.

"Do you know Varric Tethras?" Bethany inquired, "He is staying at the Hanged Man as well."

The pirate laughed heartily. "Oh my, do I _ever_ know that dwarf! He's probably the only man in the joint – human, dwarf, or elf – who _hasn't_ slept with me! In fact, he's the one who promised me a drink if I made sure you got home safely. Good thing, too!"

"I certainly do appreciate your help," Bethany said. "I'll have to thank Varric tomorrow, as well."

"Wait!" Isabela spun around to face Bethany as they neared the steps to the house. "You aren't one of the people Varric's told me about that's looking to get into the expedition to the Deep Roads, are you?"

Bethany nodded.

"Lovely! A fellow treasure hunter!" she exclaimed, refusing to hear that Bethany only wanted money to keep her family safe. "Mark my words, kitten, we will be rich beyond belief after this is all over. Now, do you have any jobs lined up, yet? That damn dwarf hasn't told me a thing, yet."

"Well, we do have a job of sorts that we're planning for tomorrow. I don't know how much money will be in it for certain, but from what I can tell, there should be some things we can sell at the least –"

"Done! Now then, it appears that I've kept my word to Varric, and you're home. I'm off to the bar again, and I think that the dwarf owes it to me now to introduce me to the handsome lad that _must_ be your brother. Find me tomorrow in my room when you're ready to go. You may want to think about knocking, first." Winking cheekily, Isabela turned and sauntered away.

* * *

The following evening, Bethany found herself standing outside of the entrance to her family's estate, Carver, Varric, and Isabela at her side. While meeting up with Varric at the Hanged Man a few hours earlier, they had found Isabela at the bar, brazenly flirting with one of the patrons while tossing back whiskey like it was water. Before Bethany gave up hope of Isabela being any help at all, Varric helpfully explained the unconventional pirate to her.

"Believe it or not," he muttered quietly, "That brood is better with a short dagger when she's drunk than most seasoned fighters are stone cold sober. I've even seen her take down ten men – four men –" he amended at Bethany's raised eyebrow, "In this very bar, drunker than she is right now."

After joining the other two for a short conversation, wherein Varric and Bethany attempted to explain the plan for exploring the estate while Isabela and Carver eyed each other and muttered comments about sword size and dagger thrust, all of them set off for Darktown.

As the group walked through the streets of Darktown, Bethany couldn't help the occasional shudder. The streets were far worse than Lowtown, and overall conditions extremely derelict: trash was clearly the cleanest thing lining these roads, and there were beggars in every shadowed corner. The very air she breathed tasted of refuse and filth, and Bethany found herself longing to get back to the higher streets of Lowtown. Walking along this road was no mean feat, either – shallow puddles of what Bethany _hoped_ was water dotted the pathway at uneven intervals – she only hoped that her boots kept out most of the moisture.

_I can't believe that people actually live here! I thought Gamlen's was bad, but this… this is unspeakably awful._

"Alright, let's just get this done with," said Carver as they neared the area the entrance was supposed to be located.

Bethany was about to reply, when the pirate jumped in first. "Sweet cheeks, are you the youngest in your family?"

"Why does it matter," Carver asked, clearly thrown off by Isabela's question.

"Just answer my question," she said, sauntering closer, swaying her hips far more than Bethany thought was necessary.

"Well, I'm the older twin," Carver began, his eyes anywhere but Isabela's face, "but… we had an older sister before coming to Kirkwall."

Bethany doubted that either the dwarf or pirate noticed the brief glance that she and Carver shared – A glance that reflected Bethany's pain, and Carver's uncertainty of whether to expand on the subject or not.

"Ah-hah!" said Varric, as Isabela began to chuckle, "Just as we thought, Rivaini!"

"What _are_ you two going on about?" asked Bethany, wanting to get in and out of the estate as fast as possible.

"Well, Sunshine, Carver here just _screams_ jealous younger brother," said Varric. "Isabela and I decided that last night after all of his ranting and complaining. Good to know we were right!"

"I am _not_ jealous," said Carver, this time with some heat.

"Of course you aren't, Junior," said the dwarf, patting him on the arm with mock sympathy. "It's hard living in someone's shadow, though. Trust me, I've been a professional younger brother my entire life!"

Carver just glowered at him.

"Alright, so shall we go on in?" asked Bethany, "I think that might be the entrance there."

She pointed at a rickety looking door that was partially obscured by a piece of tattered cloth. It was hard to believe that one of the large and fancy estates from Hightown had such a decrepit back entrance.

_If we ever buy this place back, I think I might see if we can seal this entrance… I don't know if I'd be able to sleep knowing that the estate opened to Darktown._

They all walked up to the door, and Bethany pulled a large brass key from her pocket. She placed it in the lock, inwardly thinking that a good kick would probably work just as well, and turned it with bated breath. A small click told her that the key had worked, and they were free to enter.

Carver slowly entered the dark hallway, drawing his sword, and was followed by Varric and Isabela. Bethany reached over her shoulder to reassure herself that her staff was still securely attached when she stopped suddenly and turned around. She must have made some sort of noise, because all three of her companions turned to look at her curiously.

"Sister," Carver hissed impatiently, "Wasn't it _you_ who wanted to go on this mad quest? Let's go!"

"Yes… I'm coming," she replied, whispering as well. She tore her gaze from the nearby door that she had turned to look at. A small lantern stood off to the right, its candle sputtering in the slight breeze and throwing broken orange light onto the rotting wood. It wasn't the lantern or the dereliction that had been thrown into unforgiving relief by its light that had caught her attention, though: Bethany swore that she had felt the pulse of magic coming from behind the door. As unlikely as it seemed, the ebb and flow of someone drawing from the Fade was something that Bethany sensed as easily as most people felt a cold breeze.

_As soon as we finish here, I need to find out what that was…_

Still thinking of the possibility of finding another mage – another _apostate_ mage, no less – in Kirkwall, Bethany entered the estate, forcing her mind back on the task at hand.

* * *

Several hours later, Bethany slipped out of the Hanged Man early, claiming that she was tired from the day of fighting slavers. Her friends were celebrating the extra gold they had found in the vault along with the Amell will by drinking and laughing. She fastened her hood securely over her hair and staff, but instead of turning to go to the house, Bethany headed once again for Darktown.

She looked at each dark corner of the streets with suspicion – wandering the streets at night, especially after what happened the day before, was certainly not one of the best ideas she'd had. Her mind blazed with possibilities and apprehension as she walked, and in what felt like no time at all she was standing once more in a back corner of Darktown, facing the small lantern she had seen before. She took a steading breath and reached for the door; the roughly hewn wood was damp with the beginnings of decay, and creaked slightly as it swung open.

Her first impression of the room she stepped into was that it was significantly cleaner than the rest of Darktown, but no less rank: the unmistakable stench of vomit, piss, and other unsavory waste still permeated the air here.

One of the most beautiful and surprising sights she had seen yet in Kirkwall met her eyes. A man stood over a table, intense concentration on his face as his hands glowed faintly blue with the unmistakable aura of healing magic. Bethany again felt the pull of the Fade as he released the spell into the boy who lay prone on the table, and rubbed the gooseflesh that had risen on her arms – healing magic had always felt particularly euphoric to her. While Bethany knew little of healing, her father had been proficient at it, and she always loved the cool and soothing effect it had had on her various cuts and scrapes as a child.

As the man continued to work, Bethany studied him surreptitiously. He was tall and well-built without being overly muscular. She thought that made sense seeing as he was an apostate; her father had been built much the same way, thanks to his life on the run and daily hard work. Strawberry-blonde hair was tied back from his face, but a few loose strands framed a strong jawline, high and defined cheekbones, and a slightly crooked nose. There was several days' worth of stubble on his jawline, and, upon closer inspection, Bethany thought he looked incredibly strained and tired. She was surprised by the sudden desire she had to comfort this man who had clearly been through so much in his relatively young life.

As the boy and his mother walked out, thanking the healer over and over, Bethany walked forward slowly. She didn't know what to expect, but him grabbing a nondescript wooden staff and pointing an accusatory finger at her wasn't it.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! State your business now, or begone."

"Messere, I mean no harm!" Bethany said, holding her hands up in a defensive position.

"I was not informed by my contact that anyone else would need my aid tonight, therefore, it only makes sense that you were sent by someone else." As he spoke, Bethany felt the smallest tug, a sign that he was preparing a spell of some sort. "My guess is that you work for the Templars."

As he finished speaking, Bethany saw him release a spell towards her. She reacted purely on instinct, and threw a shield up in front of herself. As it dispersed the ball of energy he had sent at her and the light faded away, she looked up to see an expression of pure shock on his handsome features.

"You – you're a _mage_?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Here's a bit of a developmental chapter… I do hope that you stick with me through this! There are so many exciting things coming down the pipeline – we just need a little bit of a lead-in, first :-D Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, favorite, etc… Your support is to me what cheese is to Alistair! Again, thanks to my two lovely betas who make this story readable!_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The air visibly shimmered, crackling with power in the aftermath of the spell collision. The two mages stared with open astonishment at one another, Bethany's expression betraying her irritation at having been attacked.

"You're a mage?" the man repeated, the dark feathers of his cloak still rustling from the lingering energy of the spells.

The corner of Bethany's mouth twitched upward. "Well, obviously. I sort of thought that the shield I threw up might have been a good indication of that."

The man had the grace to look embarrassed, and coughed softly before answering. "Oh, yes… I am sorry about that. One can't be too careful these days, especially in Kirkwall. The Templars were practically on my doorstep last night, and I guess that's put me a bit on edge."

"A bit? You just tried to fry me without waiting for me to even introduce myself!"

"Look, I'm sorry, all right? Surely you know how the templars here in Kirkwall are, being a mage yourself?" He leaned forward slightly, wisps of light hair falling in front of his eyes as he implored Bethany to understand.

She shrugged. "I honestly don't see how they can be any different from Templars elsewhere. I'm Bethany, by the way."

"Oh, my apologies. I am Anders." He straightened and fixed Bethany with a piercing gaze, eyes appraising her. "You can't have been here long if you don't see the difference between the Templars here and where you're from. Ferelden, I take it? Come to Kirkwall along with the rest to escape the Blight?"

Bethany nodded. "I came here with my family from Lothering. And I've been here about a year, but you could say that I've been otherwise… occupied during that time."

A rather uncomfortable silence ensued, in which Anders waited for her to elaborate, and Bethany fixed her stare on a sagging beam in the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the expectant look on his face.

"Right. Well, I suppose that there's a reason you're here, then? I mean, it's not often that I get a pretty woman who walks into my clinic doesn't need healing."

Bethany lowered her gaze and blushed slightly at his compliment. She'd had the occasional suitor back in Lothering, but nothing had ever developed further – she had persistently rebuked them for fear of someone discovering her to be an apostate. "I walked past your door earlier today and felt your magic… I had to see for myself if there was another apostate mage here aside from myself."

Anders grinned. "You know, curiosity killed the cat. Well, curiosity and the blighted Grey Wardens."

Eyebrows raised, Bethany looked up at him again. "I can't say that I've ever heard the phrase 'The Grey Wardens killed the cat,' before. What's all that about?"

Anders hesitated. "This isn't something that I want… getting out. How would you feel about a secret for a secret?"

"What secret of mine are you looking for?" Bethany asked, cocking her head to the side.

"How exactly have you spent your time this past year that has made you all but invisible to the templars?"

Bethany studied his face carefully, trying to ignore the distraction that was his eyes – they turned precisely the color of honey in the right light. Finally, she nodded. "All right, I'll trade my secret for yours. My brother and I worked for a smuggler this past year. She paid our way into the city when we came here from Gwaren, and we were working off the debt. While in her service, she kept us pretty well hidden from prying eyes."

Anders gave a low whistle. "My, my. An illegal mage _and_ a hardened criminal."

Bethany began to voice her defense, but was cut off by his laughter. She glared, upset that he had baited her with such ease.

"Oh, come now, milady, you can't argue the fact that you are certainly more than meets the eye!"

Still seething inwardly, Bethany replied, "Alright, _apostate_, what is your secret, then?" She allowed herself a moment of triumph as the smile vanished from his face.

"I was a Grey Warden."

He said it so matter-of-factly that Bethany was sure that he was joking again. As she searched his face for some tell-tale sign of a lie, he spoke once more. "It's true. I left the order only a few months ago."

"Um, excuse my ignorance, but Mari – someone I knew – once told me that joining the Grey Wardens was sort of a permanent deal." She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat that had risen at the memory of her sister.

"Well, it is, but I decided I'd had enough. The last straw, really, was them telling me I had to get rid of my cat. Said he made me soft."

"You had a cat? When you were a Warden?" Bethany paused, a momentous thought breaking through. "Wait a moment… if you were a Warden, have you ever been to the Deep Roads?"

As Anders' expression rapidly closed off, Bethany regretted her impulsive query. "I – I'm sorry… never mind my question."

"No, it's all right." He sighed heavily and sat down on a rickety chair that groaned in protest under his weight. "I have been to the Deep Roads, but it's certainly somewhere I never plan on visiting again. Why do you ask?"

Bethany involuntarily stepped back slightly. "No reason. Probably just my curiosity again."

Brown eyes bored into her own again. "You know, you're not terribly good at lying."

Swallowing hard, she nodded her head, the motion jerky. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she spoke again, this time almost in a whisper. "I'm working my way onto an expedition to the Deep Roads."

Anders stood up violently, the chair he had been perched on flying backwards and clattering to the floor. "You're _what_? I mean, it's your business and all, but do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"

Bethany's gaze was steady, just a hint of anger lacing the determination in her hazel eyes. "I've a better idea than most, I'd venture. My mother, brother, and I barely made it out of Lothering alive. My sister wasn't so lucky. I have seen enough darkspawn to last a lifetime, but if facing them again means a secure future for my family, it's something I'm willing to do."

Anders just stared at her, his shoulders tensed and face still apprehensive.

Sighing, Bethany turned to leave. "Like you said, it is _my_ business what I decide to do." She began to walk away, but the good breeding her mother had instilled in her forced her to pause. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Anders. It is more of a comfort to me than I can say, knowing that it is possible to remain hidden from the Templars here."

* * *

Bethany walked slowly back through the streets of Darktown and back to the district her uncle lived in. This late at night there were almost no people about, and her steps seemed deafening in her ears.

_I wonder if I could have handled that better? Perhaps wheedled him into helping us somehow, or even giving some advice about the Deep roads? No. He seemed exceedingly set in his desire to never set foot there again, or even think of them again! Still, it would have been nice to have someone else to talk to – especially another mage, and a handsome one at that._

Bethany gave herself a shake; it wouldn't do for her to get distracted by thoughts of Anders, no matter _how_ nice they were! No, she needed to keep her mind _on_ the task at hand – keeping her family safe and herself hidden – and _off_ a certain pair of warm eyes, framed by wisps of hair golden as the summer wheat in Lothering…

She sat down for a moment on the steps outside of the hovel she called home. She told herself that she needed to calm down before bed, and that her racing heart was from the brisk walk back from Darktown. She also knew that she was only kidding herself.

_If only Marian could see me now! She always _did_ like to poke fun at how I would swoon over some of the boys. _

Smiling slightly, she rose, dusting off her robes which were rough and gritty from the layers of dirt and sand she had kicked up. All was quiet inside, and she moved on silent feet to the room she and her mother shared, exhausted from the day's exploits.

* * *

"Bethany!"

Leandra's cries woke her the following morning, just as the sun was beginning to shine through the gritty windows.

"Bethany, get this mongrel out of here! Now!"

Groaning, she rolled over, feeling around blindly for her robes. Leandra refused to allow the dog Bethany had received into the bedroom, and, as a result, it kicked up a fuss every morning when it woke before she did.

"Mother, can't you just let Mani in here? It would make mornings so much easier on all of us."

"What? And wake up to my hair in a pool of slobber and the bedding half-eaten? I don't think so, darling."

Trudging out of the bedroom, Bethany was almost bowled over by the pup. He was frantic, trying to lick every inch of her that he could reach. She gently pushed him off and scratched behind his ears, causing him to pant with delight, eyes drooping lower with her ministrations.

"He's smart, Mother. He wouldn't eat the blankets at all, and he'd leave you alone if I told him to, wouldn't you Mani?"

The mabari's ears perked up at his name, and he pushed himself off the floor with oversized paws – he was certainly going to grow into a huge dog.

Leandra sniffed delicately. "I just _detest_ the idea of a flea-ridden beast anywhere near where I sleep. Where are you off to, now?"

Bethany had reached for her staff and coin purse in her preparations to leave for the day. "I'm off to meet up with Varric. I need to find work so that we can all still eat. What are you doing with your day, Mother?"

Leandra straightened up proudly. "I am going to petition the Viscount for the rights to our estate back. Now that I have Father's will, thanks to you and Carver, I think it's about time that Hightown recognizes us as Amells again."

Bethany smiled, hoping that things went well for her mother.

_Seeing as Gamlen did sell the estate, I don't think we can just dance right back in, though. I don't think Mother realizes that we will probably have to buy the place back… All the more reason for me to figure out some work with Varric._

Mani followed Bethany out the door, trotting along happily, the whuffling noises he made disproportionate to his small size. It was a beautiful day – the sun's rays had managed to burn through the layers of pollutants given off by the foundries in Lowtown, lending brilliant sparkle to the morning dew that clung to the area's few plants. Bethany smiled wryly, thinking of the garden that her family had tended back in Lothering. In particular, she had loved sitting near the herbs in the morning, drinking in their unique and potent scents. She inhaled deeply, almost believing that she could smell the basil…

Her nose wrinkled. No, that most certainly was _not_ basil. She looked around for the source of the repulsive odor.

_Ah, it must be that man right there, passed out in his own… Oh. Maker. That's disgusting._

* * *

Bethany entered the Hanged Man and walked up the uneven staircase, still slippery from the hasty mopping it had received earlier that morning once the evening revelers had left. Varric was already at his table, Carver sitting next to him, head down on his arms.

"Carver? Did you even come home last night?" At her words, Varric started shaking with silent laughter.

"Maker, Bethy… Not so damn loud," Carver replied with an audible groan.

"Junior here was propositioned by Isabela last night. She told him that they could go to her room and play 'Rebel Templar, Naughty Mage' if he beat her at a drinking game. Fool that he is, your brother agreed." Bethany raised her eyebrows at the dwarf's words.

Another groan out of Carver at these words coaxed another chuckle from Varric.

"Now, Junior," said the dwarf, adopting an instructive tone, "Have we learned our lesson? You should never, ever agree to a drinking match against a pirate… _especially_ a pirate from Rivain!"

"Shut it." Carver's voice was distinctly muffled.

Bethany smiled and shared a glance with Varric, who was nearly beside himself from holding in his laughter. "Alright, Varric, I believe that we need to figure out how to make some money. Any ideas?"

"Well, there's the usual, I suppose: become mercenaries for hire, take up thieving professionally, sell our bodies to interested parties…"

"How about something a bit less… extreme?"

"But, Sunshine! You could make a killing in a brothel! I mean, have you _seen_ the way the men in this town look at you?" He only smiled wider at the look that Bethany gave him.

"All right, fine. Well, I do have a bit of a lead on one job. Word's apparently already gotten out that we flushed out those slavers from your family estate, and one of my contacts has told me that there's someone who'd like to commission our help to battle a few more. Just think, one job that was supposed to be secret, and you're already famous!"

"Well, that would be fantastic if famous was what I was going for." Bethany looked at her friend wryly. "Unfortunately, I happen to be one of those people that prefers to keep a low profile."

"Too true, Sunshine. One might even say that notoriety could be dangerous to your health!"

A knock on the door interrupted Bethany's retort. The bartender, with his shaved head and crooked, yellowed teeth greeted them.

"Pardon me, messeres, but there's someone asking after the lady, here."

"What did I tell you!" Varric exclaimed, clapping Bethany lightly on the back, "You're irresistible!"

Bethany chose to ignore this comment entirely. "Who is it?"

"Man, 'round about my height, blonde-ish hair. Wouldn't give me 'is name, though."

Bethany froze – walking up the stairs was none other than Anders. "All right, we'll talk to him. Thank you." She pressed a couple of coins into the man's gnarled hands.

"Anders. What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?" Bethany looked at the visitor with some measure of suspicion.

"Egad! Do you know this guy, Sunshine?" Varric looked from one face to the other, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"We met, just briefly." Bethany kept her gaze locked with Anders. "Now, how _did_ you find me?"

"You mentioned last night that you had worked for a smuggler. I asked around, found a few things out, and was able to figure out where you might be." Anders spoke with a quiet intensity, ignoring Varric's laughter and Carver's grunt of annoyance as he raised his head to see what the commotion was about. "Bethany, I'd like to talk to you about something – something that you mentioned last night."

"All right, Anders. What's going on?" At Anders' glance at Varric, she added, "It's fine. Anything you have to say you can say in front of these two. Varric is, I suppose you could say, a business partner of mine."

Anders gave a slow nod, seeming reluctant. "I have been thinking about what you said last night about this mad expedition that you're planning on going on. The one to the Deep Roads –"

"Oh-ho! I smell a story here!" Varric said, practically dancing on the spot.

Anders spared only a glance at the dwarf, then continued. "I have a way I can help you. In fact, it's something you will find invaluable. But, in return, I need to ask for your help."

"Okay, what is it you have for us, and what is it you want?"

"I have two things, really. First, I have maps – maps of the Deep Roads – specifically entrances to them from here in Kirkwall and some passageways leading from those entrances. I also have knowledge. I am one of the only people within hundreds of miles who has spent any significant amount of time in those Maker-forsaken pits. You'll need that knowledge if you want to make it back out alive." Anders paused, as if to gauge her reaction. Her gaze was unwavering and unfathomable, and so he continued. "All I ask of you is one thing: I came to Kirkwall for a friend. He is a mage, and a good man; he was taken to the Circle here. I need your help to get him out before he is made Tranquil – I think, as a mage, you might have a greater understanding of my urgency than most."

A loud thump made all of them jump, such was the quiet intensity of the room. Carver had dropped his head back on the wooden table. "Not _more_ bloody mages we have to babysit."

"Oh, come on, Junior, it'll be fun! If you want, you can go talk shop with the Templars while we break one of their charges out… It'll be the perfect distraction!" Varric was ever the optimist, and Bethany suspected he gleaned no small measure of satisfaction from ribbing her brother.

Bethany exchanged a small glance with Varric before answering Anders. "Done. I cannot bring myself to stand by when an innocent mage is made Tranquil. When do you propose we go?"

She watched the man standing before her as the silence stretched on. It seemed as if he were waging an internal war, deciding whether to go through with this or not. Just as she was about to say something, he took a deep, shaky breath before speaking.

"Tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

_***Updated 10/19/2012***_

**Chapter 4**

The walk through Hightown had gone by far too slowly for Bethany's liking. At night, the colorful, flapping banners of the marketplace that seemed so festive during the day, transformed into shadowed forms that startled her each time the wind caught them. Fear quickened her heart, and it beat so loudly she feared that it would betray them all before they reached the Chantry. Comfort was not forthcoming from her companions, either – all of them appeared to be as apprehensive as she.

Suddenly, the enormous building crafted of the whitest marble loomed before them. Its spires and parapets gleamed in the moonlight, and reached high into the air as if beseeching Andraste herself to come back from the Maker's side and grace all with her divine presence again. While the majority of Thedas' population viewed the sacred building as a place of peace and refuge, Bethany saw only a prison. She glanced to her side, and Anders' face reflected her own feelings. His lips were drawn tight, and his shoulders were held with tension. Varric and Isabela stood off to one side, clearly uneasy as well, though not as much as the two mages; Carver had claimed he had plans, and refused to come along.

"Is it normal for the chantry to be this quiet at night?" Bethany whispered to Anders. She had never ventured too close to the building, as it was a common place for the templars to meet – even being hidden in the shadows of the courtyard this late at night made her uneasy.

Anders seemed not to hear her, his eyes fixed on the massive set of doors at the top of the stairway. He began to creep forward through the shadows offered by the pillars, his boots echoing softly against the stone.

Isabela glanced at Bethany and rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with Anders' stealth. She strode silently after him, and moments later had disappeared into the darkness. Bethany shook her head in amazement – rogues possessed a magic all their own when they wanted to conceal themselves. Nodding to Varric, they headed up the steps.

Finally, all four of them stood at the entrance of the chantry, two torches casting scant amounts of light onto the engraved doors. The flickering glow lent an eerie and distorted appearance to the depictions of Andraste and the Maker, and Bethany swallowed hard, hoping that the stories of evildoers being struck down by righteous lightning in the holy buildings weren't true.

With a deep breath, Anders pushed the doors open. They swung silently inward, and the statue of Andraste loomed in the distance, fixing them with her golden stare as if to warn them against their plot to aid a fellow mage. The pungent and spicy odor of incense assailed Bethany's nostrils, and she prayed that she wouldn't sneeze.

_Is it blasphemous to pray to the Maker when I am about to do something we've been told is against his will? But… does the Maker _really_ want all mages to be enslaved, or is that just what we've been taught in recent years?_

They climbed a thickly carpeted staircase, their boots silent against the plush red material. Bethany was about to voice her concerns over having met no resistance when another voice spoke.

"Anders. I knew you would come."

There was something wrong with that voice – it was too calm, too detached to come from a man that was awaiting the Rite of Tranquility. As he turned around, Bethany looked with horror upon the sunburst that had been branded on his forehead – the skin was still pink and raw around edges of the image. She breathed heavily and thought that she might be sick as Anders begged for this not to be true. She knew that they had come too late to help the man, for being made tranquil was irreversible. Bethany thought that death was better than permanent division from the Fade, and turned to voice this to Anders. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and a glint of polished armor shining off a candle holder.

It was then that pandemonium broke out.

Blades flashed, spells ricocheted off the ceiling and walls, and bolts from Bianca whistled through the air towards their marks. Bethany looked around at her companions, and threw a shield around Isabela, who was already bleeding from several cuts to her arms. As she turned around, she barely ducked to avoid a fatal blow from a templar that had come up behind her. He bellowed in frustration as she froze his legs solid, but a bolt through the chest from Varric silenced him. She worked again with Varric to take out one of the last two men, and looked around, breathing heavily. Her confidence that they would prevail was short lived, and Bethany felt despair settle in as another group of templars entered to join the fray. At least fifteen more heavily armored warriors ran towards their small group, swords and shields brandished. She reached into her robes, grasping desperately for a bottle of lyrium potion that wasn't there. Bethany knew that they were hopelessly outnumbered, and with them already weakened from the first wave of battle she was sure only a miracle could save them. With resignation, she said a quick prayer to the Maker.

She paused as she felt a new type of pulsing energy.

_Magic? If so, it's like nothing I've ever felt before._

She looked around for the source. Suddenly, she felt as though everything went utterly silent and movement stopped – the energy of the atmosphere seemed to be sucked into one focal point: Anders.

She looked around in time to see his face lift, an unearthly blue light blazing from his eyes and crackling at his fingertips. She felt a rush of energy from the Fade as he released his wrath upon the templars in the room, and she was thrown backwards into a wall from the force of it. Her head cracked painfully into the stone, and she slid slowly down the wall as darkness embraced her.

* * *

"Sunshine. Sunshine!"

Bethany groaned as she cracked her eyes open to see Varric standing above her. She was lying in his bed at the Hanged Man.

"Well, it's about time! You had all of us in a fit of worry, let me tell you."

She closed her eyes again, and tried to ignore the pounding in her head. "What happened?"

"Blondie simultaneously saved us and gave you a concussion. He will be just delighted to know that you're awake and he can continue to heal you!"

"Blondie?" Bethany asked, not entirely sure who Varric was referring to.

"Anders. You know, the one who spewed his sparkly wrath over all of the templars in a ten block radius?" Varric raised his arms and wiggled his fingers in an imitation of a mage performing a spell.

"Oh. What exactly _did_ he do? I don't remember much once I hit my head."

"I was actually hoping that _you_ could answer that!" The dwarf laughed and shook his head. "I really have no idea. I've never seen anything like it – and I've seen a lot of wild things in my day!"

There was a soft tap at the door, and Varric walked over to answer it. Anders walked in slowly, his eyes looking at Bethany's prone figure with unease.

She decided to take the safe route with her first comment. "I don't suppose you could do something about this headache, could you?"

Anders' smile was weak as he approached the bed, rolling up his sleeves. His face was sad as he held his hand above her brow, and released a trickle of healing magic. She sighed softly as the cool tendrils of his magic flowed through her, easing the pain instantly. Anders withdrew his hand, and ignored Bethany's invitation to sit down at the short stool that Varric had provided.

"Anders –" Bethany began to speak, but was cut off by his words.

"Bethany, I'm so sorry about what happened. I never meant for you to get hurt."

"But what exactly _did_ happen?"

"My spell threw you back. You were knocked out."

Bethany resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Or maybe slap him. "Obviously. What I meant was –"

Anders stood once again, cutting off her speech. He strode towards the door, and only glanced back her way for a moment. "I'm sorry."

As the door shut, Bethany dropped her head back onto the pillow, wincing at the persistent pain. She vented her frustration with a loud "Ugh!" to nobody in general.

Isabela walked out from behind Varric's dresser, shaking her head and tutting with a smile on her face. "Men, right? Can't live with them, can't live without their more… enticing… bits."

Bethany just looked at her in shock; she'd had no idea the pirate had been there the whole time.

"Oh, come now, kitten. Surely someone as delectable as you can't go too long without a good –"

"Isabela!"

The pirate chuckled. "I'm just saying, you could probably get him to talk about his personal details a lot faster by bedding the man."

Bethany blushed. "I am _not_ going to seduce him. I barely know him!"

Isabela began to saunter away, one hand on her hip. She cocked her head to the side and said, "That's never stopped me before!"

* * *

A few hours later, Bethany walked purposefully through the streets of Darktown in search of Anders.

_I am _not_ leaving without some sort of explanation this time! He owes it to me after we all helped him in the chantry._

She strode through the doorway, her boots tracking in mud from the streets. She was about to demand he tell her the truth, but all her ire evaporated at the sight of the man in front of her.

Anders was slouched in a rickety chair, his head in his hands. He looked up at her entrance, and the sadness on his face broke her heart. Was this really the same person who had almost single-handedly destroyed a unit of templars the night before?

"Bethany. I'm sorry for running off earlier. I know you deserve to hear the truth – it's just hard for me to talk about it."

Bethany began to speak, but was silenced by Anders' raised hand. Instead, she just nodded. As Anders spoke of his encounter and subsequent merging with the spirit of Justice, Bethany could only listen with rapt attention – she didn't know what she had expected to hear, but this certainly wasn't it! Finally, he finished his story, and looked up at her with no small amount of trepidation.

"So, this spirit," she began slowly, "It's not the same as a demon, is it?"

"No. There are many benevolent and good spirits in this world, just as there are malevolent ones. Spirits that embody the best in us, rather than the worst. Strength, love, wisdom… Justice. It seemed to me that, as a willing host, I could help him and he me – we seek to bring justice to the mages who have been oppressed."

Slowly, Bethany nodded. "I understand why you did it – he was your friend, and a friend in need – but if Justice is a good spirit, then why did his power cause such destruction last night? Why did it throw me across the room and nearly kill me?"

The look in his amber eyes as he met her gaze was so pained, Bethany wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"I have too much anger, I think. I changed him. When the spirit sees the wrongdoings of the templars, now, he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a spirit of vengeance. And Vengeance refuses to back down once our rage is channeled." Anders looked down at his hands once more.

"Anders, you're a good man –"

He stood, eyes flashing at her. "No, Bethany. I'm not. I appreciate your understanding more than I can say, but do not believe me to be good in the same way that you are. That kind of thinking will only get you hurt."

"But –"

"No." Anders cut her off once more, shaking his head. "Believe me, my lady, when I say that I _will_ hurt you – I already have, in fact. I have no desire to do that again, especially to someone like you."

Bethany walked slowly towards him, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Anders, I know now that you have a dark past – we all do, to some extent – but that doesn't mean that you need to hide away from everyone. You have Varric, Carver, Isabela… me."

Anders jerked his head up to look at her again, a ray of hope glinting in his eyes.

"I am a mage too, remember? You can talk to me, Anders. I understand better than most what you've gone through – what you're _still_ going through. Please, just don't block me out… I could use a friend as well."

Anders sat for a moment, still looking intently at her. Finally, he stood and took a deep breath before reaching for her hand. He raised it to his lips, and spoke quietly. "I do not know what I have done to merit someone like you befriending me, but I thank the Maker that you are here and that you are at least trying to understand. Most people would simply just call me an abomination and throw me to the templars. Thank you, Bethany."

His soft breaths fell softly on the back of her hand, and Bethany struggled to keep her breathing even. When he dropped his head to lay a soft, chaste kiss on her hand, she was certain that he could hear her heart beating through her chest, and feel the gooseflesh that was breaking out across her traitorous arms.

All Anders did was raise his head, smile sadly, and begin to speak. "I suppose that I should honor my side of our bargain, shouldn't I?"

Bethany's mind raced. _What bargain?_

"Even if we couldn't save Karl, you still came along and tried to help me. I know I wouldn't have gotten out of there alive if it hadn't been for you and your friends."

_Oh… _That_ bargain._

"I have the maps here, whenever you would like them. You also have me and my services if you so choose. As much as I detest the idea of returning to the Deep Roads, I would like to be included – I'm the only one who's been there and knows what to expect."

Bethany looked at him with wonder, her eyes asking him an unspoken question.

"I know I said I didn't want to go along, but I refuse to let something happen – especially to you. Not when I can do something of use, anyway."

Bethany thought the heat and power emanating from his eyes at that moment was far more potent than any spell he had conjured the previous night.

**A/N:** _Here we are! I just *couldn't* resist a little fluff at the end of this chapter… What can I say? I've been feeling a little fluffy lately! I do hope that you all enjoy, and the next update should be sooner with several exciting new developments :-D As always, many thanks to my lovely betas for their help! Much love! -Rhapsody_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was an uncharacteristically cool night in Kirkwall, and the damp air at the docks only made matters worse. Bethany stood with Isabela, Carver, and Varric outside one of the many warehouses in the area, wishing she had worn something warmer – small droplets of ice-cold seawater stung her cheeks, and she tasted the brine on her chapped lips. The building exhibited typical characteristics of residing in the dock district – the windows were sparse and etched from the constant battering of saline water, and the cheap lumber was rough and moist. Its normal appearance gave no indication that it harbored one of the newest – and most brutal – slaving groups in Kirkwall. Their harsh Tevinter methods, though, had been brought to the attention of the viscount, who was now offering a reward to anyone who could eradicate the group.

Anders had claimed that he was too busy at the clinic to help out that evening, and Bethany had tried to hide her disappointment. When Isabela questioned her about it on the walk from Lowtown, she had insisted it was because having a healer along was always helpful. She wondered if she was fooling anyone but herself. The long walk and miserable weather did little to help clear her thoughts, and her mood darkened with the growing storm. Eager to finish this job and get back to the fire at home, she looked back to her companions.

Varric and Bethany nodded at one another, and proceeded through the entryway, wincing when it creaked open. Bethany turned to move forward, but jumped at the loud _bang_ when Carver neglected to catch the heavy door as it swung shut. She turned around, glaring at her brother – he had neglected to catch the door as it swung shut. Carver merely shrugged, grumbling under his breath about not being held responsible for _every_ door they went through.

_So much for the advantage of surprise…_

No sooner had she thought this, than several men in chainmail rushed around the corner. Bethany drew on her powers and sent forth a wall of flame, hoping to stop their attackers in the narrow corridor. The first man paused only for a moment, laughing as her fire sputtered out in the wet conditions. Bethany scowled.

_You'd think that they would be a bit more apprehensive about facing a mage – even if that spell didn't do much damage!_

As the men charged forward once again, she employed a new tactic and froze the wet ground solid. Bethany smiled grimly with satisfaction as the men slipped and fell over one another, desperately trying to halt their out-of-control skid. Varric loosed a series of bolts, each steely missile finding its target with a sickening thud.

"You know, as much fun as that was, Junior, let's try to avoid inviting people to attack us from now on," Varric said in a sarcastic tone as he shouldered Bianca.

"Aw, don't be mean to my little lamb!" Isabela sidled up to Carver, ignoring him as he attempted to shake off the arm she had slung around his shoulders. "He just wants a chance to use this big sword of his to impress _me_."

Bethany smiled, shaking her head at the look of indignation on Carver's face, and motioned them all to continue. The cramped hallways of the warehouse pressed in on her, making her skin itch and her heart beat faster. She was eager to leave – this was, after all, a fairly routine job by their standards. In the past several weeks, Bethany had seen more bloodshed and fighting than she had ever cared to, and was alarmed that these things – especially killing – were beginning to affect her less and less.

* * *

Even though Bethany and the others had become somewhat apathetic towards battle and confrontation, the sight that greeted them as they entered a large, open space leading to the waters of the Waking Sea shocked them all.

They had expected a routine fight with a few dozen slavers, and perhaps a token mage or two. As with every other slaving operation they had dealt with, they had also expected a few newly-freed slaves to help. While there certainly _were_ groups of slavers standing with their weapons drawn, and a mage lurking in a dark corner, it was the man standing in the midst of all of them that captured Bethany's attention. He was so unlike anything that Bethany had ever seen before – clearly, he was elven, with his graceful, pointed ears and angled bone structure. Startling peridot eyes flashed from beneath a mop of stark white hair that framed his delicate features, though the look on his face was anything _but_ delicate – angry, hostile, even violent. He wore minimal armor that only served to emphasize his most striking feature – whorls of what looked like ivory tattoos spread over his skin in flowing, intricate lines. Observing the tension in his stance, and the downward turn of his lips and bared teeth, Bethany thought he resembled a caged wolf.

She chanced a glance at her companions, noting that they all appeared as stunned by the scene as she was. Undecided with how to proceed, as neither the slavers nor the white-haired elf had noticed them, Bethany stood motionless, trying to figure out what to do – should they help this unarmed man? Soon, her mind was made up for her.

One of the slavers had been speaking, but over the sound of the rain and tide, his words had been jumbled. The elf glowered at him, and Bethany gasped as bright, blue light flowed across his face and neck, illuminating the markings he bore. His shout was audible over the tumult from the storm.

"I am _not_ a slave!"

Time seemed to slow as Bethany watched his armored hand clench into a tight fist, noticing that his wicked-looking gauntlets ended in pointed claws. She barely had a chance to wonder what a weaponless man could do against the slavers surrounding him when his hand, wreathed with the same blue light that danced across his body, exploded through the nearest opponent's chest and out his back.

For a moment, both Bethany's group and the remaining slavers were rendered motionless, watching as the elf calmly tore the greatsword from the dying man's grasp. Lightning flashed through the open dock door, illuminating the feral gleam in his eyes, his downturned, snarling lips, and the crimson droplets that splashed to the muddy ground from his right hand.

It was Isabela who spoke first. "Ooh… I _like_ him!"

The pirate dashed forward, drawing her daggers with a fierce smile. Varric began humming under his breath as he loaded Bianca, and Carver ran to join Isabela with a roar, brandishing his own two-handed sword. Bethany strode forward, intent on felling the slaver mage. Drawing upon her reserves, she prepared to loose a confinement spell at her opponent, but stopped when the robed woman shrieked with pain as she was struck down by the elf.

"This one is _mine_," he said, barely glancing at Bethany as he brought his blade down with deadly intent.

Shaken, Bethany turned back to the main battle, unsure of where to cast a spell – Isabela was weaving in and out of the ranks of slavers with dizzying speed, and Carver stood in the midst of it all, hacking away at the heavily-armored men. She was sure that she would hit one of her friends if she tried to help; her spells were not near as small or precise as Varric's missiles. She relaxed her stance, realizing that the three of them had nearly finished the last of them off. Suddenly, she glanced to her right, catching movement out of the corner of her eye. The elf still stood over the dead mage, cleaning his weapon, oblivious to the two men stealthily walking up behind him, weapons raised.

Not pausing to think, Bethany shot two bolts of ice at them, smiling grimly as they both dropped, wailing in agony. The elf spun around at their screams, his sword raised and ready to do battle again, but slowly lowered it when he realized they were already dead, mere feet away from where he had stood. He gripped his weapon tighter as he stalked towards her. Bethany heard her friends walk up behind her.

She tried hard not to cringe away at the look in the man's eyes as he stopped in front of her – resentment poured from him in waves, his lips curled in a disdainful snarl – it seemed that, for reasons unknown to her, he _hated_ her.

_What did I do to earn his malice? I thought that I had done him a favor!_

Steeling herself, she met his gaze and was immediately trapped by the wild power in his stormy green eyes. She waited for him to speak, unaware that, behind her, Isabela was nearly incapacitated by silent giggling. Finally, he did speak, in a harsh, deep, and accusatory voice.

"I suppose I should thank you." He spat the words out, as though he couldn't stand the taste of them. "There are not many who would have come to the aid of one such as me. That, in itself, shows that you have some honor."

Bethany ignored Varric's muttered, "Like we would have done anything else for fear of you punching through our chests!"

"I am just glad that we could help. If you truly were a slave, or were meant to become one, I am happy that we could intervene on your behalf." Bethany was pleased her voice wasn't noticeably shaky.

"Hmm. While you seem to be earnest enough, one's true motives are never good. In any case, I am now in your debt. _Venhedis_!" This last word was unfamiliar, and Bethany jumped with the force with which it had been spoken. "It seems I have been delivered from one evil to the next."

"Wha –" Bethany began to question what he meant, thoroughly confused.

"You are a mage." His eyes narrowed and lips twisted, and as he spoke with hate, and such _conviction_ that she was a monster, for the first time in many years, Bethany felt briefly ashamed of what she was. The past year in Kirkwall, though, had given her greater strength than she had ever had, and she recovered quickly.

Straightening her back, she replied with some force. "Yes. I _am_ a mage, and I am proud to say that my abilities have gotten my friends, myself, and now you out of several tight situations."

"Perhaps." He said this with such a dismissive tone that Bethany turned to leave, thoroughly tired and irritated from the events of the evening.

"I am Fenris." His voice rang out clearly above the incessant downpour outside. Sighing, Bethany turned to look at him once again, ignoring the grin on Varric's face – clearly he was planning on how to best tell this story later on at the Hanged Man.

"I am Bethany. This is my brother Carver and my friends, Varric and Isabela." Carver grunted, Isabela winked and bowed, displaying ample amounts of cleavage – almost certainly on purpose – and Varric gave a relaxed salute as Bethany pointed each of them out.

"I – I am sorry for how I acted." Words seemed to be difficult for Fenris to find. "Mage or not, you did save my life, and for that I am grateful." He paused before speaking again, eyeing Bethany as if unsure of how much to tell her. "I will be in Kirkwall – for a time, at least – while I wait for… someone. Should you need my assistance, feel free to call on me."

Bethany cocked her head to the side, folding her arms. "You would help a mage?"

Fenris' brow darkened. "I do not like it," he said darkly, "but I owe you a debt. Call you if you have need of me."

She had helped him because it was the right thing to do, not because she'd hoped to collect favors. "You don't owe me any debt, Fenris."

"Yes. I do." He said these last words over his shoulder as he turned on his heel, stalking off into the rain.

Varric was the first to speak again as they watched the elf stride away. He gave a low whistle, saying, "He is _not_ going to like Blondie… not one bit!"

Bethany smiled, thinking that perhaps it had been a good thing after all that Anders had been too busy at his clinic to come along that night.

* * *

Two nights later, Bethany sat in Varric's room, along with Isabela, Anders, and Carver. The rain had not let up since they had met Fenris at the docks, and everyone was feeling decidedly gloomy. Isabela had half-heartedly suggested a game of Wicked Grace, but everyone – even Varric – declined. It wasn't much fun when you didn't have any coin, or even flat discs of candy to wager, and Bethany and Varric had realized that they had brought in pitiful amounts of money from all of the jobs they had scrounged up.

_We need to find some other way of getting that much coin – and soon – before Bartrand decides that he doesn't need a business partner anymore. _

Lost to her thoughts, Bethany jumped when the door slammed open. Anders surged to his feet at her side, his staff held out protectively in front of them both. Silhouetted against the dim light from the lanterns in the hall stood Fenris, his wet hair plastered against his face.

"Damn, Elf!" cried Varric, standing quickly and rushing over to a cabinet, "Towel off! You're dripping all over my rug – I got that in Antiva, you know!"

Fenris ignored the dwarf, his face turned towards Bethany and Anders. At the sight of the staff Anders held in a tense fist, his jade eyes narrowed. He muttered, "_Fasta vass_," under his breath, and strode forward into the room, ignoring the cloth that Varric had proffered.

Bethany glanced around at the group, noticing that everyone seemed as taken aback as her by Fenris' sudden appearance. She had been under the impression that they would need to see _him_ out for help! She grasped wildly for something to say, unsure of the right protocol for an unannounced and thoroughly unexpected visit such as this.

"Fenris, it's good to see you. What brings you here, this evening?" Bethany decided to try a pleasant, conversational tactic, but cringed at how weak and falsely cheerful her words sounded.

"I told you I would help you until my debt was paid. I am here for that reason."

Isabela leaned forward, licking her lips. "You know, Fenris," she said in a sultry tone, rolling his name seductively over her tongue, "I helped back at that warehouse, too. If Bethany doesn't need your help, I can think of a thing or two you could do for me… to me."

Fenris just glared at her, causing the Rivaini to burst into laughter.

Bethany cleared her throat before speaking again. "Well, Fenris, we're currently trying to figure out ways of making a bit more money –"

Isabela cut her off, having found a new source of entertainment for the evening. "Kitten, as I've told you a thousand times already, just come with me to the Blooming Rose, and you will be rich by next week!"

Bethany attempted to ignore her, but still felt her cheeks color at the suggestion.

"You see, we're trying to get enough coin together to get onto an expedition to the Deep Roads."

"I see." Fenris' curt reply was not encouraging.

"You don't have any ideas, do you?" Bethany asked tentatively.

"No."

Bethany had somehow thought that might be his answer, but was still discouraged by his lack of interest. The group conversed over ales for the next several hours, throwing out ideas that became increasingly less plausible as the alcohol began to take effect. Only Fenris remained silent, throwing the occasional hostile glare at Anders, or, more infrequently at Bethany. It was after a particularly ridiculous suggestion by Isabela that they host the first ever "Kirkwall Ball in your Smalls" that Varric thumped his glass down on the table and stood up, nearly falling over as he did so.

"I've _got_ it!"

"What," said Isabela, hiccupping with laughter, "you want to be the one who checks for weapons at my ball? Though, I don't rightly know where anyone would hide a dagger wearing just their smalls!" She dissolved into gales of laughter once again, and put her head down on the table, shaking with mirth.

"No! Let's go to Starkhaven! The youngest prince just took the throne!" said Varric, looking straight at Bethany.

She wasn't sure what he was getting at, and stared at him expectantly.

_Does he think that_ they're_ having a ball we can make money at?_

"Oh, come on, Sunshine. You see the brilliance of my plan, right? New prince of the realm… you all dolled up for when we come calling… you whine about how you need a wealthy patron to lend you just a _little_ money…"

Bethany leaned back in her chair, shock written plainly on her face. "What? You want me to go begging for money? And from a _prince_?"

"I wouldn't say begging, per-say. You're looking for a benefactor – someone you'll pay back once we're rich beyond belief from our venture."

"And why do I have to be the one to do this? Why not Isabela? She's a beautiful woman, too."

The pirate in question raised her head, rolling her eyes at Bethany's naiveté. "Kitten, I _know_ how good I look, but can you really imagine me – a wench with no subtleties or manners to speak of – trying to sweet talk a prince? Seduce, maybe. But don't ask me to do diplomacy."

Bethany hated to admit it, but Isabela doing this particular job was probably not the best plan she had ever had. "What exactly would I have to do?"

"Get all prettied up, smile nice, and bat your eyelashes. He'll be falling all over himself trying to give you money! Mark my words, Sunshine, the newest Prince Vael won't know what hit him."

Bethany thought she might be sick. Anders looked at her with concerned eyes, and she put her hand out to stop him from objecting to Varric. She took a deep breath, thought of her family and what the money from the venture could mean for them, and looked Varric straight in the eye.

"Fine. We go to Starkhaven.

* * *

**A/N:** _Woo hoo! Fenris has now joined the team, and I think we shall see some fun dynamics within the group now that he's arrived __ Next chapter will introduce a non-Chantry boy Sebastian, so I think we will have some fun in Starkhaven. On another note, I did update the last chapter as per some suggestions I got __ I hope you all enjoy this chapter… I had a lot of fun writing it! Big hugs to you all, and extra ones to __**Eve Hawke**__ and __**Jaden Anderson**__ for beta-ing for me!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

They had been travelling hard for three days over unforgiving terrain, the air growing cooler as they moved steadily north. Varric pointed out a relatively flat expanse of terrain near a copse of pine trees, and they all gratefully stumbled forward to make camp for the night. They were only a few hours outside of Starkhaven, and it seemed to Bethany that the only person _not_ feeling the effects of the arduous journey was Fenris.

The elf had agreed to come along, but had said little to anyone ever since they left Kirkwall. Each evening, he pitched his tent, helped find wood for a fire, and sat – removed from the group – methodically cleaning his enormous sword until dinner was prepared. He ate in silence, then left for his tent, emerging before the rest of them in the morning. He had ignored Isabela's advances so completely that, surprisingly, the pirate had eventually given up, turning her attentions back on Carver.

The evening started off much the same as the previous two had – a fire was started, tents were pitched, and dinner was started. As they sat and ate, though, Bethany could sense the heightened level of stress in the group. She suspected that she was the most nervous of them all.

"So Varric," she began, desperate to break through the silence, "shall we run over the plan for tomorrow, again?"

Before the dwarf could answer, Carver interjected – his voice sharp with exasperation. "What is there to go over? Bethany goes in, woos the prince, gets some coin, and we all leave richer than we came."

Varric chuckled. "It's not _quite_ as simple as that, Junior. We still need to figure out some details. For example, what are all of us going to be doing when Sunshine's at court? Who is going with her? That sort of thing. Now, I've already booked us several rooms at a place called the 'White Arrow,' so we should probably head there first."

"Excellent," said Isabela, "I get to bunk with Bethany."

"Naturally, seeing as you're the one in charge of getting her all dolled up for the party." Varric nodded at the pirate, ignoring her innuendo.

"What about the rest of us?" Anders put in. He had been very quiet the entire journey, and Bethany noticed that he kept shooting Fenris dark glares. She'd had a difficult time convincing Anders that Fenris didn't _actually_ mean her harm, especially after Varric let it slip that the elf had practically threatened Bethany at the warehouse.

"At the very least, I think that one or more of us should go along with Bethany to see this new prince. I don't think it's wise for her to go on her own," Anders continued

"Agreed." Varric nodded at Anders, and looked around at the rest of them. "I think you should definitely go along, Blondie, as you're better at politicking than most of us."

"I think I'll sit this one out," said Isabela, flipping one of her daggers idly. "I never _can_ seem to behave myself at these formal types of events."

"I'm not going. I have no desire to see my sister make a fool of herself , begging for charity." Carver said, scowling in Bethany's direction.

Varric spoke cheerfully, ignoring Carver's ever-present pessimism, "I guess that leaves you and me, Fenris. I'll be going, since I don't trust any of you to tell me exactly what happens. What'll it be, Elf? Are you coming or staying?"

"I will accompany you all to see this prince. I do not trust that _abomination_ to keep himself under control." Fenris fixed Anders with a glare, his jade eyes accusatory.

Bethany placed a gentle hand on Anders' arm to prevent him from leaping to his feet. "Fenris, Anders isn't an abomination," she said quietly. "I'm a mage, too, and I know that he is not what you accuse him of being."

Anders barely had time to smile at her gratefully before Fenris broke in again. "True. You may be a mage, but you have strength where he has none."

Bethany sighed, knowing that it was useless to continue the argument. Instead, she turned back to Varric to continue outlining their plans for the following night.

"The prince's ball begins at sundown. It's by invitation only, but I managed to procure us a few tickets to this exclusive event." He drew four thick pamphlets in red and black from his pocket, fanning them out for all to see.

Bethany didn't want to know how he had managed to get his hands on them.

"Bethany, you'll spend the afternoon with Isabela getting ready. Once we arrive at the ball, Blondie, the elf, and I will fade into the shadows and let you do your thing." He batted his eyelashes for effect. "Now, I hate to put any pressure on you, Sunshine, but between your new dress and the cost of us getting here, we're pretty much tapped out for coin. Just do your best, and he won't know what hit him."

Bethany felt her stomach begin to twist into knots.

_What have I gotten myself into? I don't even want to think about what will happen if I can't get us the money…_

She spoke quietly, giving voice to her fears. "Varric… I don't know the first thing about courting a man. I doubt he'll even notice me."

The dwarf and Isabela doubled over with laughter. It was Isabela who spoke first, her voice thick with amusement. "Trust me, kitten – once I'm done with you, there won't be a man in Starkhaven whose jaw hasn't dropped to the floor and hasn't ducked behind something to cover himself."

Bethany cocked an eyebrow in question.

Isabela stood with a predatory grin. "Darling, let's just say that, were I a man with more… _obvious_ signs of appreciation, I'd have to stand behind something, oh, waist high to hide it." She rolled her hips forward for effect, and Bethany began to blush furiously. "In a matter of minutes, I can show you how to fix a man with a gaze that'll have him drooling at your feet. Leave it to me."

Bethany coughed to clear her throat before speaking again. "But, even if I can catch his attention, I don't know the first thing about keeping it! Growing up an apostate, there wasn't exactly ample opportunity for me to practice my flirting."

"Well then, you'll just have to practice!" said Varric cheerfully. "Here! You can practice on the elf! Surely the prince will be more receptive than him. No?" The dwarf caught sight of Fenris' glare, and backtracked quickly. "Fine. Practice on Blondie, then."

Bethany looked over at Anders, noticing that he hadn't quite met her eyes. They hadn't spoken about the serious talk they had shared at his clinic since then, and both of them had pointedly stayed away from any topic that was remotely serious.

"Anders?" she asked quietly, wanting his opinion on the matter.

His topaz eyes met hers, and Bethany felt her heartbeat quicken. "I think that's a good idea, Varric." His gaze never left hers as he answered the dwarf's original suggestion.

Carver snorted, and mumbled something about going to bed. Part of Bethany wished she could escape to her own tent and forget about the whole thing, but she was fixed in place by the stare that held her.

"Excellent!" Varric's voice broke the spell, and Bethany turned her face to the ground. "All right, Sunshine, pretend he's Prince Vael, and introduce yourself."

Bethany took a steadying breath, and looked at Anders once again, desperately trying to forget how his full lips had felt on the back of her hand. She ignored Isabela, who had slunk closer with a gleam in her eye to watch their exchange.

"Good evening, Prince Vael," Bethany began timidly.

Anders nodded his head in an imitation of a bow. "It is a pleasure, lady…?" He let the unspoken question hang.

Bethany glanced to Varric for help. He cupped his hands around his mouth, saying in a stage whisper, "Amell! Use Amell!"

"Lady Amell, your highness."

"A lovely name, for an equally beautiful woman." Anders' voice was deep and quiet, and Bethany could almost believe that he meant those words.

"Your estate is marvelous, ser, and I thank you for hosting such a spectacular event. It is certainly much different from Kirkwall." Her voice barely shook as she replied, thinking that speaking to a prince surely couldn't be any harder than talking to the intense man in front of her now.

"Thank you, my lady. What, may I ask, brings you so far from home, besides this soiree?"

Bethany was beginning to feel silly, but shook off the feeling as she attempted to stay in character. She glanced up at Anders-playing-Vael, her eyes demure from under her long lashes. "Well, highness, I am actually wondering if you might find it in your heart to help me…"

"Speak, then, dear lady. I am certain that I could deny you nothing." Anders' gaze was burning into hers, and Bethany felt her voice catch.

She leaned back after several moments, breaking the connection she was sure was only in her mind, and spoke to Varric. "I – I feel so stupid, Varric. This seems ridicu –"

Bethany's voice faltered as she turned to look at the dwarf. Both he and Isabela's mouths hung open, and clear looks of astonishment were on their faces. Fenris gave a low growl, and stalked off to his tent.

"What?" she asked, certain that she must have made a bigger fool of herself than she had expected.

"Sweet thing," it was Isabela who recovered first, "if you pull _half_ as good of a show for the real prince, I wouldn't be surprised if he signed his entire treasury over to you by the time the night's over."

* * *

Bethany walked with Isabela through the streets of Starkhaven – she would meet Anders, Varric, and Fenris at the castle. As they approached the massive castle that was home to the Vaels, the streets became noticeably grander – outside of the inn they were staying at, nondescript dirt pathways wound past the shops and taverns, but here – in the more prestigious regions of the city – the streets were made of elaborate granite stones, carved into intricate shapes and placed together into a breathtaking mosaic of metallic gray, black, and purple. Bethany felt as though she was treading on a piece of art, and winced as her high-heeled slippers clacked violently against the stones.

Bethany had spent the better part of four hours that afternoon being prepped by Isabela. She had been washed in scalding water that was infused with expensive oils and salts, and emerged spelling faintly of roses and jasmine. Isabela had then rubbed every inch of her skin with expensive creams, leaving it soft as silk. Her hair had been brushed until the raven locks shone in the dim light of the room, and the pirate had spent hours artfully enhancing her natural waves with hot tongs until it cascaded down her back. Small twists of curls had been loosely teased back on one side of her head and pinned in place with a golden brooch that held one blood-red ruby. Her dark eyes were lined sparsely with kohl, and her lids dusted with a silvery mineral powder that sparkled when the light hit it. Full lips were stained dark red, and her cheeks were brushed with the smallest amount of rouge.

"You already blush so much as it is," Isabela explained with a wink.

Finally, she stepped into a floor length gown of dark red silk. It was strapless, and the dipping neckline gave what Isabela described as a "tantalizing peek" of her full breasts. The bodice was tight-fitting, and showed off her curves until the material flared out in flowing yards of material at her hips. As she walked, the material danced around her legs, and a slit that went past her knee offered an occasional glimpse of her lean, right leg. When Bethany had finally turned to look at herself in the large mirror, she could barely recognize herself in the exotic and sultry beauty that reflected in the glass.

"You'll have to try to not look so surprised the entire evening, kitten," Isabela had said, proudly examining her masterpiece with folded arms. "It sort of ruins the whole 'confident explorer' exterior we're going for."

She had tried to keep that advice in mind as they made the short walk to the castle, but as the towering marble walls had loomed ever closer, she felt her confidence begin to shrink. Isabela gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. The enormous doors, emblazoned on each side with a black iron "V," were flanked by two fountains that plummeted down from what must have been three stories above them, ending in twin pools where exotic fish swam lazily by, their colors reflecting the bright torch light. Everything about this castle reeked of pretentiousness.

Mustering her courage, Bethany walked through the front door and was met by her other companions as Isabela faded away into the night.

Varric gave a low whistle. "Damn, Sunshine, you _do_ clean up good! I told you so!"

Fenris' keen eyes darkened as he looked over her, and then darted away to appraise the crowd in the adjoining room, searching for any suspicious signs. It was Anders whose eyes met her own and held them.

She looked at Anders under her eyelashes, feeling incredibly self-conscious in the dress that was far more revealing than her everyday robes. As the silence stretched on, she gave a small shrug, as if to apologize for the way she looked.

Anders let out the breath he had clearly been holding, and gave her a small, strained smile. He glanced at Fenris, noticing that the elf's attention was still turned towards the crowd, and walked up to Bethany. She took a deep, steadying breath, and smiled back as she rubbed away the chills on her arms that had nothing to do with the cold.

As he had done in his clinic, Anders reached for her hand gently, and raised it, rubbing his thumb softly over her fingers. "Lady Amell," he said simply, eyes boring into hers as he raised her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

Sure that her voice would betray her shaky state, Bethany simply nodded, and smiled in silence until Varric broke the spell.

"Well, kids, let's get to it!"

* * *

Bethany wound her way through the crowd, refusing the crystal goblets of bubbly wine that the servers proffered to her. She knew that her mind was already in a hazy enough state without the soporific effects of alcohol. She smiled and nodded at the greetings and bows of a surprising number of men, and continued her way toward the very back of the extensive ballroom.

A man stood in front of an elaborate tapestry that depicted a distinguished gentleman holding a magnificent longbow of golden wood and ivory at the ready, fixing his missile at an unknown target. The man held a goblet of wine loosely in one hand while he conversed with the few people around him, carelessly confident in his stance and wearing brilliantly white dress armor adorned with a bold black and red cape bearing the Starkhaven heraldry. His auburn hair had been brushed back, and fell to the nape of his neck where it curled softly.

Knowing that this could only be the prince that was her target, Bethany gathered her courage, took a goblet of the bubbly liquor, and walked towards the man with a smile on her face and sway in her hips that Isabela had taught her.

The man in white armor caught sight of her, and Bethany heard him mumble a soft "excuse me" to the men around him as he walked forward to meet her. As his brilliantly blue eyes raked over her from top to bottom, Bethany forced herself to stand tall.

"My lady," he said in a deep brogue, bowing deeply, "I do not believe I have had the very distinct pleasure of meeting you, yet."

"Bethany Amell, your highness," she said, forcing a coy smile, recognizing how similar this interchange was to the game she had played the night before.

"Lady Amell…" He practically purred her name, and Bethany fought to keep a pleasant smile on her face. "Please, call me Sebastian."

Sebastian led her to the dance floor, and Bethany fought back a rising tide of panic – her mother had taught her to dance, but it had been years since she had attempted any of the steps. The prince grasped her tightly around the waist with his right hand, pulling her closely to his body, while his left hand grasped her right. He led her around the floor to the dramatic piece the musicians were playing. As they developed a rhythm, he began to question her.

"My lady, I don't believe that I've seen you in Starkhaven before. I was certain that I knew all of the pretty girls worth knowing here," he said with a roguish wink.

Bethany blushed, feeling the heat climbing from her chest to her neck. "I am actually from Kirkwall, my lord."

"Ah, that would explain it. Had I known a creature such as you was hiding out there, I'd have made the trip back to the City of Chains much earlier."

Bethany didn't know how to respond to this, so she simply smiled and continued to dance.

_I am in way over my head, here. _

"So, what exactly _does_ bring you to my fair city, lady Bethany?"

Bethany steeled herself – this was it, the reason they had traveled halfway across the Free Marches. "I actually come seeking aid, your highness," she said, hoping her voice was as sultry as Isabela's when the pirate wanted something.

"My dear lady, tell me what it is you seek, and I shall do my utmost to render this aid you seek." Sebastian's hand rubbed small circles on Bethany's lower back, and she fought the urge to pull away.

Bethany explained that she was part of an exploration group, and that they were looking for a patron of sorts. She assured Sebastian, leaning in towards him, that the riches they found would be more than adequate to repay him with interest.

The prince chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, still holding onto Bethany tightly as they continued to dance. Finally, he lowered his head to look her in the eye.

"How much of an advance do you require?"

Bethany swallowed, knowing the amount of gold was extraordinary. "Fifty sovereigns, your highness."

She knew that she was trembling with fear and anticipation as the silence stretched on while Sebastian regarded her thoughtfully.

"I think that we may be able to come to an… arrangement, of sorts," he said carefully.

"Indeed, my lord… what sort of an arrangement?"

Sebastian's cerulean eyes locked with her chocolate ones. "I will front this money, my sweet, but there is a catch."

Bethany nodded for him to continue, sure that her palms were sweating through his fine armor and onto his hand.

"I will give you sixty sovereigns now, and I only expect fifty back. I will expect you to return the fifty to me no later than this Satinalia. If this deadline is not met, I keep you as the… interest… for late payment," he said with a predatory smile.

Bethany's smile faltered. "What would his highness think of seventy sovereigns by this time next year, and no additional interest?"

"No deal, my beauty."

Bethany's blood ran cold. Her mind raced to calculate the length of time that he had allotted.

_Summerday was not too long ago, so that gives us just over five months to get to the Deep Roads and back. What choice do I have? This is a chance we might never have again._

She took a deep breath and met his gaze once again. "Very well, Prince Sebastian. Your offer is… most generous."

His smile widened as he lifted her hand to his lips. "I thought so, too, my lady. I find myself rather hoping that I do _not_ see my money back."

As he flipped her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, never taking those shockingly blue eyes off of her, Bethany shivered.

This kiss had perhaps the opposite effect of the innocent one Anders had planted on the same hand just hours earlier.

* * *

**A/N:** _First of all, to all you Sebastian lovers out there, __**please**__ don't hate me! *hides behind desk* I didn't foresee this happening when I first started the chapter! As I started writing, though, I began to think that, hey, if he's not a Chantry boy, there's a good chance he would have stuck with his carousing ways, and it's very possible he could have been a slimeball, too! Either way, I had a ton of fun with this chapter, and I really hope that you enjoy it as well! Special thanks to the lovely ladies, __**Jaden Anderson **__and __**Eve Hawke**__, as always, and thank you *so* much to everyone who is favoriting, following, reviewing, or just reading in peace… your support keeps me excited about this story _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Bethany ran.

Her legs were leaden, her chest tight, and her robes weighed down by the cold rain that obscured her vision. She wiped the droplets out of her eyes and chanced a glance behind her.

Her pursuer was still there, cape dark as the night and hood drawn to conceal his face. His soft footfalls made no sound to betray his menacing presence.

Fear quickened Bethany's heart and legs. Ornate buildings flashed by in a blur of shadow. Looking behind her once again, she slowed, unable to make anyone out. Had she finally outpaced the man? Turning slowly, she froze. A wall of armed men blocked her way, their dark armor absorbing the light from the area and reflecting none back. She stumbled backward, away from these silent guardians, slipping on the wet cobblestones and falling to her knees.

He stood in front of her once more. A gauntleted hand pulled at the clasp of his cloak, allowing it to billow to the ground at his feet in a dark puddle, revealing the gleaming white armor and blood-red hair underneath. His head lifted, and Bethany was pierced by cerulean eyes.

She reached in desperation for her staff, all thoughts of templars and ramifications banished from her fear-riddled mind. It wasn't there. Her heart – a heavy, icy orb – dropped to the pit of her stomach. She channeled what magic she could, throwing spell after spell at the man who strode calmly toward her, malice and lust written plainly in his eyes and in the upturned sneer of his mouth. Her spells were deflected by an unseen force as soon as they reached him, spiraling off into oblivion and rendering the area dark but for the luminous armor that grew nearer with each passing moment.

Her mana reserves ran dry.

Bethany sensed the wall of black chainmail closing in around her, imprisoning her and the assailant in an impenetrable circle. As he stopped in front of her, a malevolent smile marred his disturbingly handsome features. He dropped to his knees, and with only a sudden glint in his eyes as warning, clouted her across the side of her face.

Whimpering, Bethany fell fully to the ground, the wet stone chilling her to her core. Stars and flashes of colored light danced behind her eyes. As she tried to clear her vision, she felt his hand run down the side of her body, burning as it went. Bethany shuddered, kicking as she tried in vain to escape. Her feeble attempts earned her another blow, this time to her other cheek. Metallic liquid, sharp and hot, pooled in her mouth from a cut inside her cheek.

"You are mine, sweetling." His voice rang hollow, echoing strangely off of the wall of bodies surrounding them. One hand grabbed her thigh harshly while the other fisted her hair, sending fresh surges of agony through Bethany. Despair coursed through her, hotter and more caustic than any poison.

She had failed in the Deep Roads, and it was she who would now pay the price. Mustering what little strength she had left, Bethany used the only weapon still available to her.

She screamed.

* * *

"Sunshine… Sunshine!"

Bethany's eyes fluttered open, and she saw not Sebastian Vael standing above her, but Varric.

"Maker's breath, kid, pull yourself together! Last time I checked, my cooking didn't warrant screaming bloody murder in your sleep."

"Varric?"

The dwarf chuckled. "Well, who did you expect? The queen of Antiva? Must've been some dream, huh?"

Bethany pulled her blankets closer around her. She was drenched in cold sweat, and her tongue traced the ragged edges of her cheek that she had bitten into – she could still taste the blood. Looking around, she realized that she wasn't still in Starkhaven, but rather two days outside of it. She could hear unintelligible murmurs coming from outside – she must have woken the entire group – and jumped as Anders poked his head inside her tent.

His eyes appraised her, and with a quick glance at Varric said, "I'll get you something to help you get back to sleep – a dreamless one, this time."

As he walked away, Varric turned to her once more, folding his arms across his broad chest. "So, what exactly _did_ have you screaming so hard in this dream of yours? Your brother told me you haven't had issues with darkspawn recently."

"I – I can't really tell you, Varric." Her whispered plea only coaxed one of his eyebrows higher. With a deep breath, she explained her predicament. As she told Varric of Sebastian's demands of her and their subsequent bargain, Varric's lopsided grin faded quickly.

He gave a low whistle, scratching the back of his head. "Well, Sunshine, I've heard of a lot of foolhardy plans in my time – most of them thought up by yours truly – but this one has to top them all –"

He was interrupted by Anders' reappearance in the tent. As he mixed together an assortment of herbs into a mug of hot water, he asked casually, "What sort of plan has Bethany thought up?"

Bethany shook her head furiously at Varric, who proceeded to ignore her as he answered Anders. "Your fellow mage has made a rather delightful deal with the esteemed Prince of Starkhaven. She got the coin – which she told us two days ago – but she also agreed that if we don't get the money back to that nug-humper's royal ass by Satinalia, she will become his newest mistress."

Anders turned to look at Bethany, his lips tightening and eyes growing darker with each word that Varric spoke.

"Now, Blondie, if you're half as smart as you act, I'm sure you can figure out what dear Bethany's nightmare was about."

When Anders continued to sit in heated silence, Varric sighed and walked forward to drop a hand on Bethany's shoulder.

"It'll be ok, kid. We've got time – we just need to make sure we get in and out of those damned tunnels as quickly as possible. I'll talk to Bartrand the second we get back to Kirkwall and make sure we get moving." Shaking his head, he strode back outside and walked towards the fire that the rest of the group was gathered around.

Bethany heard his hushed whispers, knowing he was filling everyone in on her most recent folly. Her cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment.

"We should never have let you do this." Anders' voice was quiet and monotone.

"Anders, I –"

"I should have known that you'd do something to put yourself in danger." Anders continued to speak, seemingly oblivious to Bethany's attempted retort as he stared at the brown fabric of the tent. "People like you are always so self-sacrificing, so inherently _good_ that they never pause to think of any possible ramifications from their actions. Tell me, Bethany," his amber gaze now bored into her own, "did you even pause to consider the consequences when Vael made this… offer?"

Bethany swallowed hard. "I – sort of. I asked if we could pay him back with interest at a later date, but he refused. I panicked – I know that – but I didn't see any other option for us to get the coin we needed."

"Bethany, I think that _all_ of us would have been happy to go home empty-handed, and work on smaller jobs for the next ten years rather than have you make this deal!" Anders' voice held a note of harsh anger, which surprised Bethany. Thus far, she had only seen the unfailingly calm side of him.

"Well, that may be true, but I doubt we can do anything about it at this point, other than pray we make it back to Starkhaven with the money before Satinalia." Bethany finished speaking, her voice barely more than a whisper. Tendrils of fear and despondency snaked back into the forefront of her mind, and she struggled to keep her breathing uniform, even as brackish tears began to sting the corners of her eyes.

Anders glanced over, and she hastily turned her head to the side, not realizing that it was in a healer's nature to detect simple subtleties such as hitched breathing.

"Tell me about the dream, Bethany." His voice was gentle now, but demanded an answer.

She shook her head, unwilling to recount the horrific images her subconscious had conjured.

"Bethany."

She let out a shaky breath and began to speak, not meeting her friend's eyes. "I was running through the rain, but it felt as though I wasn't getting anywhere. He was following me."

Anders didn't need to ask to know who it was Bethany spoke of.

"As he got closer, we were surrounded by men in black uniforms, and I fell. My magic didn't do anything – it just disappeared every time it got near him! He approached me, and smiled as he beat me… It was so real that when Varric woke me, I could still taste the blood in my mouth. I realized that I'd bitten my cheek while I was sleeping. I – I remember being in so much pain, and –"

As she remembered the last part of her nightmare, Bethany broke off and pulled her legs tight up against her stomach, and her tears began to fall. She felt a strong arm slide along her shoulders and pull her against a warm body. Shivering from the memories of what had happened next, Bethany rested her head on Anders' shoulder, drawing strength from his presence.

"He told me, 'you are mine,' then. He started to – to touch me." Bethany could almost feel a hand tightly grasping her thigh, and her headache returned.

Anders' arm jerked as he held her. He inhaled deeply, and Bethany felt his arm retreat. He moved to sit in front of her and gently stroked her cheek. His eyes became deep and fathomless as he drew on the Fade, and with a tiny pulse of energy, Bethany felt her cheek begin to heal. She sighed, unconsciously leaning into his palm as the cool wisps of magic soothed the burning pain away, and she barely felt the pad of his thumb gently wipe away her tears.

She opened her eyes to see an unexpected expression on Anders' face – something she hadn't seen since Marion had died – protectiveness. Her eyes widened, and she barely caught his whisper.

"I – we – will _never_ allow something like that to happen to you."

Their gazes locked, and Bethany cocked her head to the side, curious what would happen next, and not sure if she was imagining the roar of intense energy she heard every time he was in close proximity to her.

Anders moved his hand slowly from her cheek to the back of her head, gently stroking her hair. He leaned closer, and Bethany caught a whiff of cedar and vanilla. Her lips parted slightly.

They both jumped as Isabela slapped the side of the tent, yelling as she ran by, "Let's go, my dears! Camp meeting in three minutes!" Her laughter followed her to the next tent as she woke up Carver in the same manner.

Bethany turned away quickly, her cheeks burning now that the spell was broken. She pulled on her travel cloak and all but flew out of her tent. In her haste, she missed the startled look on Anders' face, and the lasting smolder in his eyes that faded away to leave a bemused look of longing behind.

* * *

Bethany emerged from her tent to find four pairs of eyes trained on her. She sat next to Isabela, who nudged her saying, "Tsk, tsk, darling – you've really done it now, haven't you?" and dissolved into silent laughter.

_Well, at least one person can find some humor in this situation._

"Well, ladies and gents," began Varric, standing on a nearby stump, "We are gathered here today to discuss our most recent predicament, which I've already filled you in on."

Bethany flushed, and stared resolutely forward, even as Fenris muttered "foolish woman" under his breath. Now that she had vented her emotions, she was determined to maintain her calm and help work toward a solution that would _not_ involve her becoming someone's bed warmer.

"Here's the deal: we need to do several things. One, get Bartrand and his band of merry plunderers – along with us, of course – into the Deep Roads as soon as possible," Varric jumped off his pedestal and began pacing as he ticked off their upcoming duties. "Two, get as much treasure as we can, as _quickly_ as we can. Three, get our sorry hides out of there – again, as quickly as possible…"

"What?" Isabela interrupted, a wicked glint in her russet eyes, "I was under the impression that we were going on holiday! I thought that the Deep Roads were the newest craze in vacationing!"

Carver snickered under his breath, but he was the only one.

Varric merely resumed his planning. "Four, find a buyer for our newly found treasures. Unless we run across a heaping pile of sovereigns, it's likely we can't just give Vael whatever we find. Finally, get ourselves back to Starkhaven and pay this bastard off. Now, are there any questions?"

Isabela raised her hand, bouncing comically on her seat. "'Scuse me, messere, but do we have to do all this _fast_?"

"Correction," said Varric, "are there any _serious_ questions?"

"I have a question, dwarf." All eyes turned with surprise on Fenris, who had never given voice to his opinions before. "Where is this treasure that we are supposedly going to find? And what happens if we find nothing at all?"

"Bartrand's been given a tip by a very reliable source that the area we are going to is full of treasure, just waiting to be found by those willing to look –"

"And if nothing is there?" Fenris growled.

"We high-tail it back to Ferelden and pretend we never existed?" offered Varric. "In other words: I have no idea, elf."

"We aren't planning on giving Bethany up, though?" Anders' voice rang out sharply as he approached the fire.

"Blondie!" cried Varric, clasping a hand over his heart and staggering back as though mortally wounded. "Could you really think such a thing of me? Of course we aren't giving up Sunshine – I've already got too much invested in her to forget about it now!"

"What in the name of Andraste's dimpled ass are you talking about?" asked Carver, who had his chin resting in one hand and looked utterly disinterested with the proceedings.

Varric sighed heavily before replying. "My epic saga of an unlikely heroine – your dear sister, Junior – and her comrades in mischief and arms. There's Carver the Whiner – unfortunately you probably get killed off for dramatic effect – Blondie the Melodramatic Mage, Fenris the Moody and Broody, Isabela the –"

"Temptress? Vixen? Who-" the pirate in question began with an innocent tone.

"Horrible idea, I know!" cried Varric, laughing as he tried to restore order once more. "In any case, Blondie, _no_, we will not be giving Bethany up – to evil and lecherous princes, templars, or anyone else for that matter."

Fenris grunted, and Anders turned to face him. "Something you want to say, elf?"

"I am of the opinion that if we _should_ fail, Bethany might actually be safer in the Circle, both from this prince and herself."

At these words, Anders surged to his feet, gripping his staff with white knuckles. Fenris seemed unimpressed, his mossy eyes flickering once in the enraged mage's direction before settling on Varric once more.

"I've got it!" Varric's words cut the tension in the air, "If we fail, we send our angry mage to unleash his _Justified_ rage on Sebastian, and the broody elf to punch through the chests of everyone else in his court. Genius, I know. Maker, I don't know what you all would do without me."

For the first time since Bethany had left Sebastian's palace, she felt the icy grip of apprehension slacken. She knew now that her friends would make sure that she was kept safe – no matter what the outcome. She felt someone's gaze on her, and turned to see Anders. His eyes softened as she gave him a faint smile, and her worries drifted even further away. Yes, here was someone she knew she could rely on – a man who knew her worries better than any of the others, a man who made her feel protected and safe.

_Protection… safety… two things I haven't felt since Marian died._

* * *

**A/N:** _Hello, dear readers! Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter up, life has been hectic lately! We are getting close to the much-anticipated Deep Roads Expedition: Bethany Style! Ooh, so many things to thing about – will Bethany go? Will Carver? Will they get enough treasure to appease Sebastian the creeper? Stay tuned to find out more! _

_As always, a huge thank you to my dear betas for all of the hard work they put in to helping me with this story – __**Eve**__ and __**Jaden**__, you rock my socks off! Also, hugs to everyone who has been following Bethany's adventures so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please do let me know what you think so far _


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _Dear readers, I'm back! I apologize profusely for this extremely long dry spell. Suffice to say that December pretty much consumed my life. In any case, I am back at it, and should be posting on all of my stories (starting with this one!) on a much more regular basis. I hope that you haven't given up on me, and that you enjoy this little installment. Next up: Deep Roads action! Many hugs to my two dear betas, __**Eve Hawke **__and __**Jaden Anderson**__, without whom this would probably not be readable. I owe them all of my remaining Christmas cookies! Please let me know what you think _

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Bethany glanced around anxiously as her group made their way through the crowded streets of Hightown, the heavy purse of coins leaden on her belt. Though she had concealed it under several folds of her robe, she felt certain that the metallic jingling of the gold could be heard down every street, and by every cutpurse in the city. Unable to shake the feeling that the cash made her glow like a beacon, Bethany increased her tempo and glanced at Anders for reassurance.

His face was trained straight ahead, his eyes severe above his slightly crooked nose. Normally full lips were drawn tightly into a straight line, and the worry lines on his brow matched those on Bethany's. No, it certainly wasn't fair of her to ask Anders for words of encouragement. Not after he had pleaded with her to return the money to Vael and live simply as an apostate as he did. Anders didn't have a family in Kirkwall to watch out for – a mother whose gaze constantly raked upward to Hightown where the estate she had grown up in still stood. She couldn't abandon the goal that had consumed her these past months, simply because of the words of a lecherous prince and the dangers they might encounter. Giving herself a shake, Bethany stood taller as they ascended the steps to the enclave where Bartrand and his team lurked most days.

Still, she couldn't deny that she was afraid.

The light-haired dwarf commanded attention, even flanked by two of the largest men that Bethany had ever seen. His straw-colored hair matched Varric's exactly, but the resemblance between the two siblings ended there. The younger brother's lack of a beard was perhaps the most obvious difference, but the smaller subtleties spoke volumes about their different personalities. Varric's brown eyes were warm, cheerful, and almost always accompanied by a smile, while Bartrand's light blue ones resembled icy shards and reflected his cold demeanor along with the hard set of his mouth.

As the dwarf caught sight of Bethany and her friends, his face turned red – presumably with frustration. He walked forward, and just as it seemed he was about to curse them out, Varric stepped forward.

"Brother! Have _I_ got great news for _you_."

The next few minutes were spent arguing and yelling, but in the end, Bartrand acquiesced to his younger sibling's coaxing, although Bethany suspected that the heavy pouch of coin carried more weight with the explorer than Varric's word did. Thus followed several hours of rough planning and scheming, wherein a surprised Bartrand discovered that there were multiple entrances to the Deep Roads, all within reasonable distance of Kirkwall. After a gruffly spoken "you sodding kids had better be as useful as you say," Bethany finally began to relax.

_Now that we've been accepted into the team, it can't be long until we leave the city, and with this many of us going, it will just mean that many more hands to find what we're looking for. We'll be able to pay back Sebastian, and get back to Kirkwall without much delay at all!_

Feeling significantly better about their chances for success, Bethany motioned for them to leave, doing her best to ignore the persistent grumbling of their expedition leader.

* * *

A mere four days later found the entire group except Anders at the Hanged Man, celebrating their departure for the Deep Roads the following morning. Bethany was shocked at how quickly the planning had gone – she had felt certain that it would take upwards of a fortnight to figure out all of the details for an expedition of this scale. However, she did have to admit that Bartrand didn't seem to care much for planning, and she had strong suspicions that he had simply picked the closest entrance point to Kirkwall and was hoping that it led where he wanted it to. Even though she had voiced these concerns to Varric, his excitement didn't seem to quell in the slightest.

"Well kids," said Varric, raising his full mug of ale precariously high, "here's to a damn fine partnership."

"Hear, hear!" chorused Isabela, a cheeky grin on her face. "We've been having so much fun already, I just can't _wait_ to see what other sorts of trouble we can get into underground!"

Bethany allowed herself a smile – the bright moods of her two friends were infectious. Carver, though, was an entirely different story. Bethany had expected her twin to be excited about their acceptance into the expedition – especially seeing as he had been the main one pushing for them to join. Instead, he had grown steadily more sullen and withdrawn as the day had progressed. She chanced a glance at him now, noting that he didn't even seem to have heard Varric's toast, and was staring deep into his drink, apparently lost in thought.

"Carver, is everything alright?" Bethany laid her hand gently on his arm, but pulled it back as her brother jumped at her touch.

"Yes. I'm fine."

Ignoring Isabela's arched eyebrow, Bethany spoke again. "If you're tired –"

"Yes." Carver rose and slammed his still-full tankard on the table, sloshing the cheap swill everywhere. "I think I _am_ tired. I'm leaving…"

Isabela was the first to interrupt the stunned silence that had fallen over their table. "Well… that was awkward. I mean, I _did_ offer to bed the poor boy tonight – eve of battle and all, you know – but I usually don't get that sort of reaction from men!"

Fenris' olive eyes narrowed with distaste at the pirate's words before he turned to Bethany, his upper lip curled into a snarl. "Your brother is up to something."

Bethany shook her head, a few wavy strands of hair escaping the confines of the leather thong she had tied it back with. "No, I don't think so. Carver is… difficult at times, but he does mean well."

"Not to mention that Junior couldn't plot his way out of a wooden crate…" mumbled Varric, chuckling under his breath.

"Well, either way, I should probably get home as well. Bartrand expects us at dawn tomorrow, and I don't think Carver has even packed his things yet. I'll meet all of you here in the morning." Bethany rose from her seat, leaving the rest of her ale sitting at the table where it was rapidly snatched up by Isabela. Pulling up her hood, she walked out the door and into the cool, night air.

The walk back to Gamlen's shack was quick, and Bethany's dark eyes darted to scan every shadow. She was no longer the young and utterly trusting girl who had fled Lothering, believing that her older sister would take care of all of them. Though still innocent compared to most who prowled the streets of Kirkwall, Bethany had learned to tread with far more caution than she had less than a year ago.

As she approached the tiny house, Bethany wasn't surprised to see that Carver's window was dark – he _had_ insisted that he was tired, after all. And he'd been home long enough to pull together the few items he would need for the trip. Entering the room she shared with her mother, Bethany undressed and fell into her bed, falling into a restless sleep, visions of sharpened teeth, feral eyes, and rotting flesh dancing through her consciousness.

* * *

"Carver, get up! We need to leave!" Bethany darted past the closed door again, desperately grabbing last-minute things she had forgotten to pack before they had to leave. Hair in disarray, she mumbled, "Maker's breath, it isn't as though he didn't get enough sleep last night!"

"Darling! What are you going on about at this hour?" Leandra entered the main living area, her ragged blue silk robe, clung to as a reminder of past riches, pulled tightly around her body. Her hair was simply braided, and her normally bright grey eyes were hazy with sleep.

"It's Carver, Mother. He _knows_ we're supposed to be meeting everyone outside the Hanged Man this morning, and now I'm sure we're going to be late since I've neither seen nor heard him at all since I woke!"

"Oh, I thought for certain that you must have spoken with him last night. He was home only briefly, then he left again – told me he needed to speak with Isabela, if I am remembering correctly?"

Bethany felt her cheeks redden at her mother's words, remembering what Isabela had said the previous night concerning Carver.

_Pull yourself together, Bethany! I can't give myself away, and I don't think I could bear telling Mother that Carver has just become 'Bela's latest… conquest._

"Hmm, well I suppose that I must have just missed him, somehow. He probably took a different route back to the bar." Bethany was pleased that her voice sounded nonchalant, but more than a hint of irritation crept into her tone with her next words. "I'd best leave, then, as he's probably already there waiting for me, now."

"Bethy, dear –"

"Mother, I know. But, I _need_ to do this. Carver understands, too. Just think, when we come back, maybe we'll finally have enough to buy back the Hightown estate!"

"It's just that I worry so about you, darling." Leandra's voice was imploring. "I mean, your sister was always the adventurous type, and I can't bear to think of you and your brother meeting the same horrible fate that Marian did…"

Bethany softened at the mention of her sister. "Yes, Mother. I miss her too. But we have far more experience now than when we left Lothering, and we'll be with a large group." She stepped forward and brushed a soft kiss against her mother's cheek. "I promise we'll stay safe."

Leandra's eyes shone, tears shimmering in their depths, and she grasped feverishly at Bethany's shoulders. "I love you, my darling girl. Maker watch over you."

Bethany nodded, holding in her own emotions, and shouldered her small rucksack as she walked into the misty streets, the first rays of sunshine barely peeking over the horizon.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?" Bethany's eyes flashed with ire as Isabela shrugged, a mischievous grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but he didn't come back to play last night. More's the pity, really." Isabela heaved an enormous sigh, the ties on her shirt straining in protest as her plentiful bosom pressed upon them.

"The boy has clearly run off, too scared to follow this through to the end." Fenris stepped forward from the pile of crates he had been leaning against, his enormous greatsword glistening in the sunlight. Bethany cocked her head, not sure that she had ever seen the weapon free of some sort of gore or dirt.

"I don't think –"

Anders placed a gentle hand on her arm, cutting off her protest. "Bethany," his voice was soft, "I'm sure that Carver is just running a few errands. He'll meet us in Hightown. Perhaps he changed his mind and decided to visit the Blooming Rose instead."

"Hah! Smart boy!" Varric interjected. "Who knows what he would've caught from Rivaini, here? Granted, the lovely ladies of the Rose probably aren't _that _much better for your health, but at least it's an improvement. But, as much as I'd love to continue sitting here playing detective, we'd better get our sorry hides up to Bartrand – I wouldn't put it past him to leave without us if we arrive late."

Bethany's mind was in turmoil the entire walk through the lower reaches of the city.

_Where could Carver be?_

They emerged into the courtyard to a scene of general disarray and chaos. There were wagons piled haphazardly onto cards, food, extra weapons, and bedding bursting at the seams. Men were running around, frantically trying to keep up with the orders being fired from the dwarf that commanded attention at the center of all the action: Bartrand was in his element.

Bethany's eyes raked across the crowd, but her panic only grew as her dark-haired sibling was nowhere in sight.

"Ah, so you sodding kids finally decided to get out of bed, eh?" Bartrand's gravelly voice boomed over the din. "Get enough beauty rest, doll?"

Varric replied, saving Bethany from replying. "And a _very_ good morning to you, too, Brother! Are we about ready to get this caravan rolling?"

"Just about, I reckon. Boys!" Bethany winced at the violent increase in Bartrand's tone as he addressed the amassed hirelings at large. "Get your sorry asses in gear! We're leaving in five minutes!"

Bethany looked around wildly, and it was Anders who bought them a little more time. "Bartrand? What exactly is this 'plan' that you've barely mentioned? I'm sure many of us would sleep more soundly once we enter these Maker-forsaken tunnels if we knew what you had in mind."

Bethany turned with gratitude the mage, but his amber eyes were hard and trained on the swarthy dwarf.

"What is there to know, mage? We get in, get the damned loot, and get out. End of story. Now stop thinking so much and just focus on doing your job once we're down there – I don't care _how_ many bleedin' darkspawn you've faced in your abundant years, you just remember who's in charge, here. _Me_." Bartrand's face darkened from pink to bright red as his voice rose in volume.

Bethany saw Anders move to reply, but her attention was drawn to the small arched entrance to the courtyard.

"Carver!" She rushed over to greet him, barely remembering her earlier anger at his absence, so great was her relief that he had finally arrived. "Thank the Maker! I was worried about you… what happened last night?"

Carver's eyes flickered behind his sister as Anders, Fenris, and Isabela joined Bethany. "There was no need to worry, Sister –"

Bethany's voice gushed with relief as she cut him off mid-sentence. "Oh, I'm not worried – not now, anyway. I was just so scared that we were going to have to leave without you. Now that you've arrived, though, we can tell Bartrand that we can be off in –"

"Bethany." Carver's voice had a hard edge to it, and his sapphire eyes were tinged with an emotion that Bethany couldn't place. "I'm not going."

Her smile faded. "What do you mean, you're 'not going'?"

Carver rolled his eyes. "I mean exactly what I said, dear sister."

"But – I don't understand, Carver. This is what we've been working towards for months, now! We need to think of Mother and our future here in Kirkwall; our family _needs_ for this expedition to be successful." Desperation crept in partway through her impassioned speech, only for Carver to tear his gaze from her own.

"Bethany, _I_ don't need for any damned expedition to go well. It's _you_ who got into trouble with that lecherous Starkhaven prince, and _you_ who wants Mother to live in the lap of luxury for the rest of her days. I've had enough."

"Carver, how can you say this? We are all in this together." Anders leaned forward, his voice tinged with anger.

"No. Not anymore, mage." Carver spoke with finality. "I've joined the Templar Order. And, before you go about shouting 'betrayal,' you and your friend, here," he said, jerking his head in Anders' direction, "don't need to worry about me turning either of you in."

Bethany was shocked. She felt as though she had been struck in the gut – her breath caught and chest and throat constricted. She turned imploring eyes to her brother. "Carver –"

A fierce hand gesture cut through the air, silencing her weak protestations. "No, Bethany. It's done. Goodbye." With no other word to her or anyone else, Carver whirled on his heel and strode away, presumably in the direction of the Gallows. Bethany was too shaken to react.

Varric must have shown up part way through Carver's revelation, for it was he who gently took Bethany's trembling arm. "Come on, Sunshine, loads to do, yet."

As she was turned and marched, stumbling, back to the assembly of carts, Bethany missed the look of abhorrence that Anders shot at Carver's retreating form. Her muddled thoughts were impossible to sort out, and the only thing that swirled to the front of her consciousness was the agonizing sensation of betrayal.

_I would have done anything for him – I still would. Why this? Why now?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

_76 Days_

* * *

Bethany avoided her companions' gazes as much as possible, loathing the ill-concealed pity burning in their depths. Instead, these past several days she had absorbed their surroundings; there was a certain majesty to these ancient, underground passages. Varric had told the group that the enormous caverns had been painstakingly carved through stone by dwarves, countless years ago. Each pillar that lined the passages thrust several stories high and bore the geometric carvings characteristic of dwarven engineering. Bethany had assumed as they were deep underground that it would be cold. Instead, she found herself sweating through her robes most days because of the veins of magma that ran alongside their path.

They made camp for the third time in much the same way as they had done the previous times Bartrand had called for a halt: orders were barked to make camp, his hired lackeys rushed around, drinking and swearing all the while, and Bethany and her companions set up their own camp as far from the mayhem as was prudent. After a sparse meal of stale bread, dried meat, and a few sips of water, Bethany excused herself and curled up on her bedroll, determined not to trouble her friends with her misery. After a few hours, the chatter of the large party had died down, and Bethany was nearly asleep. Her breath caught, though, when she heard her name mentioned in a whispered voice.

"All right, I'll tell you. I don't think it would be wise to bring it up around Bethany, though." It was Varric speaking, and quiet though he was, Bethany thought he sounded strained.

"She has a _right_ to know –" Anders began, but he was cut off by Varric.

"Whoa, Blondie. I don't know if you caught her reaction when Junior decided to pull a Mac Tir, but I don't think Sunshine needs this extra little worry in her life right now."

"Excuse me," interjected Isabela, "but pull a _what_?"

"A Mac Tir…" Varric said, and Bethany could picture him looking expectantly at the others. He must not have gotten the response he was hoping for, because he continued, "Oh, come on. Mac Tir – _Loghain _Mac Tir – you know, the guy who abandoned King Cailan and the Wardens at Ostagar? It's a new saying of mine; I think it's got good potential to catch on."

If Bethany hadn't been feeling so upset over her brother's betrayal, she would have found this much cleverer than she did at the moment. As it was, most of her companions seemed less-than impressed as well.

"And _you_, Rivaini… you were in Ferelden when most of this went down!" Varric sounded outraged that nobody was as enthralled with his wit as he had hoped.

"Oh, come on, Varric. I had far better things to be doing than paying attention to politics." As Isabela spoke, Bethany imagined the pirate's eyes rolling and smiled to herself.

"In any case," Varric continued, clearly trying to pull attention back to the story he was developing, "I don't think Bethany should be told this little tidbit just yet."

There was a moment's silence, and when Varric began speaking again, she assumed that there must have been some sort of nonverbal agreement that passed amongst the group.

"Well, I found out just a few days before we left on this expedition that Prince Sebastian isn't exactly the greatest guy –"

Isabela snorted loudly, interrupting the dwarf yet again. "Oh, and since when have we not known _that_?"

"Oh, just you wait, Rivaini – it gets even better," Varric intoned grimly. "I did some asking around after we got back to town, since it seemed odd that any one of the Vaels that I'd heard of could be so slimy. You see, Sebastian's parents and brothers were well-loved in Starkhaven, and their reputation was good even as far away as Kirkwall. They were allegedly kind rulers, and were thought of as extremely generous and pious.

"The eldest Vael son, Corbinian, was set to take the throne not too long ago. According to my sources, at the same time that this was announced, Lord Vael also declared that his youngest son, Sebastian, was to join the chantry as a symbol of the family's dedication to the Maker."

"Him? A brother of the chantry?" Fenris' voice was a low, incredulous growl. "After what we saw in Starkhaven, I doubt he took the news well."

Varric chuckled. "You can say _that_ again, elf. I'm told that Sebastian was about as anti-Andraste as they come. He frequented all of the finest – and many of the _not_ so classy – drinking establishments and brothels of Starkhaven. Apparently, when Father Dearest broke the news to him, he went on a rampage about town: got roaring drunk, screamed to anyone within earshot that he should be the next heir to the throne, and eventually got carted back to the estate in a handcart by a few members of the guard who found him passed out in a side-alley.

"Oddly enough, though, Sebastian quieted down after that initial outburst. The servants of the castle say that over the next few days, he was calm, and spoke with great dignity to his family, even agreeing to go to the chantry."

"I hear a 'but'coming," said Anders.

"_But_," Varric said dramatically, eliciting soft chuckles from most of those assembled, "It wasn't three days later that the entire household took gravely ill with the exception of Prince Creepy. Over the next month or so, every member of the family was dead from 'unknown causes,' conveniently leaving Sebastian – heartbroken, of course – to rise reluctantly to power."

"Ooh… I _do_ love a good intrigue!" Isabela joked.

"Yes, yes. It's all very mysterious." Varric was speaking quickly now, as he often did when he was about to wrap up a story he wasn't quite happy with. "As I'm sure you can all guess, Sebastian was never found guilty of anything, although the townsfolk haven't stopped being suspicious of him since then. Word has it that the very ball that Sunshine went to was held only a day after a memorial service for his deceased family. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have a bad feeling that if we don't close every, single loophole in this guy's plan for our Bethany, things could get ugly. Fast. I don't even want to think of what trickery he would be willing to pull on Sunshine if he _did_ kill off the rest of his family."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, and the only sound for the moments after that was the crackling of the logs in the small fire that had been built. Eventually, the sound of soft footfalls suggested her companions were retiring to their own bedrolls. Frozen to the spot, Bethany was appaled as the whispered tale of Sebastian's scandal echoed through her mind. That she had made a deal with a man like him turned her blood cold. Even more troubling, perhaps, was that Varric hadn't thought she could handle hearing it.

_This whole mess we're in now is my fault. Anders is right: I _do_ have a right to know about this. _

With a renewed sense of purpose – and Carver as far from her mind as he had been in days – Bethany drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

_71 Days_

* * *

"Holy shit." Varric enunciated each syllable, his voice reflecting the awe that everyone felt as they looked into the chasm below them. They had been traveling through dark passageways for days, and the tunnel had opened abruptly to reveal an incredible sight.

What appeared to be an ancient dwarven city sprawled throughout a circular underground valley, most of the structures crumbling from centuries of neglect. Narrow steps carved from crumbling stone led down to the largest building in the center of the thaig. From this vantage point, Bethany could see three other staircases leading upward and outward from that same building to different caverns that were at the same height as the one the adventurers now stood in.

Pushing and grumbling, Bartrand moved to the front of the group to stand next to Varric. He gave a low whistle as he pulled out his map.

"We are well beyond the charted reaches of this map. Now, if the legends are true, this place should be chock full of treasure, ripe for the picking! Now, let's get our sodding asses down there and get down to the _real_ work."

Navigating the stairway proved to be trickier than any of them had anticipated. The stone steps were smooth from the pounding of countless feet, and some of the areas were so deteriorated that there were only a few inches where one could safely place their foot. The lack of handrails and pushing of the crew made the ordeal a nightmare, and Bethany watched nervously as Bartrand's men began the descent.

The first of the men made it to the ground without incident. As a large man got to a small step, though, little pebbles broke away, clattering to the ground and echoing softly. Bethany turned away from the scene on her heel, swallowing hard and closing her eyes. A soft hand on her shoulder and Isabela's joking reassurance did little to calm her nerves, even when her friends informed her that the man had made it to the ground.

Hours passed as the line of explorers slowly made their way into the thaig, and still Bethany hovered in a constant state of near-panic. Finally, only she, Varric, Isabela, Anders, and Fenris remained at the precipice. Varric was the first to go, casually lumbering down the precarious walkway as though he had been born doing this sort of thing. He turned with a grin, and waved the rest of them on.

Isabela followed, and she was as light on her feet on the incline as she was on solid ground. Bethany was again reminded of her sister's unerring grace as the rogue practically flew down the first half of the steps, easily catching up with Varric to give him a playful swat on his behind.

As Fenris began the trek down the steps, Bethany was so caught up in watching her friends that she didn't realize that anything was wrong until she heard a shout. A sickening crunching sound and wail of agony followed, drawing her eyes to the ground. One of Bartrand's men had fallen.

Anders muttered a curse, and pulled his staff out as he began the descent. As he approached the top of the steps, he spun and held out a hand. "Come on, Bethany, you'll be fine."

She nodded, and walked to the stairs.

"Go on." Her voice was faint. "You're the best healer we've got down here. I'll be alright – I just need to take it slowly."

Anders' eyes darkened, and he held a warm hand to her cheek. "Be careful." He had barely whispered the words when he pulled his hand back, and began to walk quickly down the steps, his staff held out to the side for balance.

Bethany's cheek felt cold where his hand had been just a moment before, and she gave herself a shake as she began the slow climb down. Forcing herself to ignore the ground itself, she fixed her eyes on each individual step. Her legs were shaky, and she feared the trembling would spill her from the edge, just like that poor man whose groans of pain echoed around the cavern. When she finally reached the ground, she collapsed against the nearest building, sucking in deep breaths of the damp air.

After a moment, Bethany looked around, locating Anders by the fallen man, his hands glowing softly in the semi-darkness as he worked his healing magic. Forcing herself to look back up at the tunnel they had emerged from, Bethany's stomach dropped when she realized exactly how steep the stairs were, and how high up they had been. Reeling with vertigo, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker that they had all made it, wondering if it would even be heard from this far underneath the surface.

* * *

_62 Days_

* * *

"Nothing. Not even a damned heap of nug dung." Bartrand's voice rang out clearly as he ranted in front of his assembled team. None of them were particularly keen on being lectured to, as they had been working non-stop since they had arrived in the thaig to find something – _anything_ – of value. All of them were filthy and sore, and the lack of anything to show for their labors had left everyone in poor spirits.

"Now, I will say this one more time," Bartrand said, shaking a fist at the group, "We are _not_ leaving here until we have found the loot!"

Angry muttering broke out. One of the braver men, his face twisted into a scowl, spoke up first. "An' what if there isn't anything down 'ere, eh?"

Bartrand's icy eyes glared at the speaker. "You blithering _idiot_. Of _course_ there is treasure down here! Do you honestly believe that a thaig like this that has never been found before would have nothing?"

The man crossed his arms. "Well, I dunno, do I? We've been down here for over a week, now, and seeing as we've found nothing more than ruined buildings, it doesn't seem likely that we'll find anything besides that."

Bartrand shook his head, wrath pouring from him with every word that he spoke. "You fool. My ancestors were crafty: they jealously guarded all of their prized possessions. It's here, alright – we just need to figure out where they stashed it all."

"Hey, Brother?" Varric spoke up, his normally golden hair a much darker shade of brown from the large amount of accumulated grime. "Isn't it true that the ancient dwarves often had caches of treasure hidden away from the cities? I've heard that most of the best items looted from Aeducan Thaig were actually found in hidden passageways that wound around the city itself."

"Hmm. You may be onto something, there." Bartrand's eyes darted around, as if hoping to suddenly see a secret doorway that they had missed earlier.

Varric wasn't done, though. He stepped forward eagerly – it seemed to Bethany that he had probably been dying to tell someone this for days, but didn't dare go against his brother's direct orders for fear of causing unrest. "What about those other elevated tunnels that the stairways lead to? Just because we didn't see anything in the tunnel we came in from doesn't mean that we shouldn't check the others."

All eyes flicked from the two dwarven brothers to the three other stone staircases that led to the unexplored taverns beyond. Though Bethany hated the idea of traversing the perilous steps again, she had to admit that the option was probably the only one they had at this point.

Bartrand's eyes narrowed, and he nodded once. "Done. I'll send three scouts up tonight to tell us what the passages look like. We'll divide into four teams to explore the areas. I'll stay here with a small contingent to keep searching the thaig itself. The other half of my men will form a second team, and your group will split into two to tackle the other two passages. With any luck, we'll be richer than that good-for-nothing 'King' Harrowmont within days."

As most of the men broke away, Bethany and her friends stared at each other.

With an uneasy chuckle, Varric broke the silence. "Well, that backfired on me. I guess that's what I get for talking every one of you up to my dear brother."

Later that evening as they sat around the fire, waiting for their thin soup to heat up, a plan had finally been arranged. Fenris, being the strongest warrior among them, was to be split up from the two rogues – if either group were to be attacked and only Varric or Isabela were available for hand-to-hand combat, their chances of success were limited. Finally, after much debate, Bethany and Anders were also to be split up, as having two mages in one party made little sense. Being the main healer, Anders was to team up with Varric and Isabela, leaving Bethany with Fenris.

Bethany felt her heart sink once the agreement had been reached.

_Anders. The one person I feel safest with and the least guilty around isn't going to be with me. Not to mention, of all the people I could have been teamed up with, it's the one who hates mages with a passion. It's probably better that he's with me than Anders, though – those two are constantly at each other's throats. _

After another restless night, the camp rose and met at the large, central building that had probably once been a hall that held meetings for thousands of dwarves. Though the tiered stone that circled the central dais were in a similar state of disrepair to the rest of the thaig, it had clearly been effective in its prime.

Bartrand's words were little more than a faint buzzing in her head. She struggled to hide her shallow breath, hoping her obvious nerves didn't betray her. She started as a hand fell on top of her own clenched fist. Without looking, she knew it was Anders, trying to give her reassurance without words. She felt a tingle of electrical warmth shoot through her hand and up her spine, easing the tension in her shoulders. Despite herself, Bethany sighed and gave Anders a small smile of thanks. Relaxing her hand, long fingers wound through hers, and a flood of warmth that had little to do with magic rose in her chest.

As Bartrand finished speaking, instructing the exploration teams to meet back in the building in one hour, a small squeeze bore down on her hand, drawing her attention over to Anders. The sheer intensity of his stare brought color to her cheeks and a slight flutter to her heart. Knowing this was the moment she dreaded, being separated from him, she jumped to her feet and headed back to her bedroll to gather her things.

Herbs flew from her fingers as she sorted through them, when Isabela's voice startled her. "A little on edge, aren't we?" The pirate flashed a teasing grin as she pulled Bethany aside. "Listen, kitten: I know you're not the happiest with our buddy system, but the elf is good at exactly three things: killing things with that atrociously large sword of his, punching through people's chests when he gets all glowy, and –" Here Isabela paused, her smile broadening. "_And_, something he's refused to do with me, but I'm sure he'll come around and show me _exactly_ how good he actually is!"

Bethany had to smile, and she shook her head at the pirate, who had begun to shimmy her hips very suggestively.

"All right, gang," Varric called out, shouldering Bianca in the process, "let's head out!"

After each team was instructed to return to the main thaig if nothing was discovered after two weeks of searching, the groups began to walk to their respective staircases. As Bethany and Fenris neared theirs, Anders pulled her aside.

"Bethany –"

She smiled, determined to maintain her courage. "I'll be fine, Anders."

He studied her for a long moment before nodding. "I know. I have something for you."

Bethany cocked her head at him. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small, thin dagger. The blade glinted red in the eerie light of the thaig, but it was the enormous emerald embedded in the pommel and an unknown crest etched into the blade that caught her eye.

"I want you to take this," he said quietly, handing the beautiful blade to her. "It was given to me by a friend while I was in Amaranthine – you have probably heard of her as the Warden-Commander and queen-consort."

Bethany gaped at him. "You knew Elissa Cousland?"

Anders nodded. "She became a good friend to me while I was with the wardens. This is one of her old blades. She told me that even mages need a blade, sometimes – her words, sadly, proved to be true more often than I care to remember."

"Anders, I can't take this." Bethany was shocked that he would present her with such a meaningful gift, and looked down at the weapon.

He closed her fingers around the hilt. "I want you to have it. It will ease my mind knowing that you'll have something to defend yourself with should your mana run low."

Drawing closer, two fingers tilted up her chin, their gazes meeting in that same intense stare he'd caught her in not minutes earlier. As their eyes locked, his hand curved around to gently cup her cheek. "Like I said, Bethany: please just be safe."

He leaned forward, and Bethany's breath caught – the subtle hint of vanilla and cedar that she now associated with Anders swirled around her, muddling her senses. Her eyes fluttered, and she could feel a soft puff of warm air as he exhaled. From what seemed like miles away, Bethany could make out Varric calling for them, but she paid the voice no heed.

She felt Anders' body still, and simultaneously prayed that he would both pull away and close the last inch between them. She sighed, realizing that she must have been imagining this connection between them again. She prepared to open her eyes to face the real world once more, but Anders moved first. His leaned forward again, and his lips brushed feather-light against her own for a short moment. Bethany gasped, and her eyes fluttered open to see Anders already walking away to rejoin Varric.

She leaned her forehead against the cool stone wall she stood against, touching her lips with her fingers. She was certain that she would feel the heat of Anders' lips from that one, hasty kiss for days to come.

* * *

**A/N:** _First off, a note on the "# days" headings that you see in this chapter: what these will be doing throughout the rest of the chapters covering the Deep Roads expedition is keep us, the readers, aware of how long Bethany and co. have until Sebastian's deadline. Obviously, they don't know the exactly number of days since they've no way of telling time, but as you'll see, they will wonder on it and have a general grasp on the passing of time._

_A huge thank you to my dear betas, __**Jaden Anderson**__ and __**Eve Hawke**__ for sprucing up my writing and helping me with all the little details! Also, a big shout-out to __**D-Ro2593**__ for suggesting that some more background on my Sebastian would be good – I hope it helps pull the story together for you all! And, of course, to each and every one of you who takes the time to read and review my story – I love you all dearly!_

_Finally, along the same lines of our countdown to Sebastian's deadline: I've created a poll on my profile for you to give me some input and let me know whether you think Bethany and co. should make it back for the deadline or not. Let me know what you think! -Kyla_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

_61 Days_

* * *

The silence in the tunnel was oppressive, and Bethany glanced to her side to ensure that her companion was still there. Though Fenris carried a greatsword that must have weighed nearly as much as Bethany did, his steps were so light that no sound could be heard.

"What is it?" Fenris' deep voice cut through the silence.

Bethany started, realizing that she had been shaking her head. "Oh, I'm just amazed that you walk so quietly. Most of the other warriors I know are heavy on their feet." She thought bitterly of how Carver had clanked around with no care for stealth during the past year.

"Yes," the elf growled, his lips downturned. "One of the… _perks_ of having lived much of my life looking behind me."

Bethany was silent, unable to comprehend the struggles Fenris had been through. "What is it like? Tevinter?"

Mossy eyes glanced at her before refocusing on the path ahead. "It is a land filled with dark people, and darker magic. Slaves are used and discarded. In some cases they are experimented on out of curiosity or greed."

Noting the bitter edge to his voice, Bethany regarded him with realization. "Is that what happened to you, Fenris?"

"Yes. My former master imbued lyrium brands into my skin, seeking to create for himself the ultimate bodyguard. Ha!" The laugh was sharp and lacked humor. "Even he could not have known that the markings gave me strength enough to eventually defy him." Fenris' fists clenched in remembrance of his former life, and his eyes narrowed with malice. "But even so, I am not truly free."

Bethany cocked her head in question, one eyebrow lifted.

"Danarius will continue to hunt me," he answered simply. "I am far too valuable for him to simply give up. But enough of such things; we must be wary in these tunnels."

Fenris' tone brooked no argument, and Bethany fell back into an uneasy silence. The shadows moved with the ebb and flow of the scant light offered by the lyrium veins, and her nervous eye searched for anything malicious hidden within. She faltered, wondering what Anders would think of her cowardice. As a Grey Warden, he was certain to be alert in these cold depths, but not crippled by fear. Steeling herself, Bethany resolved to be the kind of explorer Anders could trust at his side.

* * *

_59 Days_

* * *

The coin had not glowed for some time.

Prior to splitting into groups to explore the three tunnels, Bethany and Anders had come up with a crude method of keeping track of time. None of the explorers wanted to spend more time than necessary in the confining space of the shafts, especially if there was nothing to be found, and Varric suggested that all three teams meet back at the thaig if nothing was found. They had debated and argued for some time on how the groups would know when to turn back, when Bethany reached into her bag and fished out a handful of copper coins. Putting their heads together, she and Anders had managed to put a charm on each of the metal discs that caused them to glow bright blue. From experience, Anders had said that these types of charms didn't usually last for more than one day, and that when the light faded, each of the groups would know to turn back so they could report their findings.

Bethany and Fenris' trip had been uneventful – the only things they had found in their tunnel were a depleted silverite vein and a handful of dead spiders. Bethany was grateful that they hadn't run into any darkspawn, but there had been no other signs of life, either. It made her uneasy, and Fenris' continued silence was not helping. They had not slept since the beginning of their trek, and Bethany was exhausted. Whether it was concern or irritation that prompted Fenris to call a halt, it mattered not – Bethany could no longer keep up, and she was grateful for the rest.

She sat down, flexing her weary feet as she pulled out a piece of coarse flatbread for each of them. Fenris took his without comment. Bethany was lost to her own thoughts when they were interrupted by the elf's quiet voice.

"I cannot believe I am requesting this of a ma – of you," he began, "but I find myself in need of help."

Shocked by the comment, Bethany hurried to shut her gaping mouth before replying. "Oh. Of course, Fenris."

"We spoke of Danarius earlier. I have come upon information that may lead me to him." Fenris did not meet her eyes, but rather stared fixedly at the chunk of bread he held. Bethany was unsure of whether to respond or not, but Fenris continued in an even lower rumble. "I cannot face him alone."

"Of course we will help –"

"No. There can be no 'we,'" Fenris cut her off with a fierce swipe of a hand through air. "There is… something – aside from myself – that he is trying to procure. If we can get there first, it may goad him into confrontation. If too many attempt this, it will give away our intent. No – the fewer that know of my plan, the better."

"Oh. All right… if you think that's for the best." Bethany was at a loss for words; she had been under the impression that Fenris wanted as little to do with her as possible. For him to turn around and ask her help in procuring some unknown relic was unexpected, to say the least! "If I may ask, what exactly is this thing that we'll be finding?"

"A former apprentice of Danarius." Fenris' tone was grave.

"You mean, another person with lyrium markings?" Bethany couldn't believe that one magister – regardless of his influence – had been able to secure both the amount of lyrium and power that would be required for such a feat.

"No. I said she was an apprentice, not a slave – although, the two are near the same thing as far as Danarius is concerned. She is not marked as I am. Even so, she is perhaps more valuable to Danarius than I am." Fenris gave a dark smile. "She is a mage as he is, you see. She escaped shortly before I did, though how an elf like her managed the feat, I cannot say."

Bethany furrowed her brow in confusion. "If she is a mage, she probably didn't have the difficult time you might think."

Fenris chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "She may be a mage, but she is as dim-witted as child. Her 'escape' was mostly due to chance and dumb luck. The only way I can fathom that she has even survived is through the plague that Danarius himself taught to her: blood-magic." He spat the last words as though to clear the poison they'd left upon his tongue.

"She's… a _blood_ mage?" Bethany emoted, incredulous of what Fenris had told her. She knew perfectly well what he thought about magic in general, but to consider helping the type of person that even most mages reviled was shocking. "Why would you want to help a blood mage?"

Fenris narrowed his jade eyes at her. "I did not say that I want to help her. I need to get to Danarius, and she may be the easiest way. Unlike the rest of the magisters in Tevinter, she has not been using blood magic for long, and is largely ignorant when it comes to the consequences. Danarius, I believe, views her as a liability now that she is outside of his care."

"Was she a mage before she worked with Danarius?"

"Yes. She formerly belonged to a clan of Dalish elves in Ferelden and came to Tevinter seeking to augment her power. She did that, but at the cost of consorting with demons." Fenris was evidently sickened by the thought. Bethany's next question was answered before she had a chance to ask. "Why she sought to gain power, I do not know. Perhaps if we find her, you can question her for yourself."

"Yes, perhaps I can." Bethany was dazed by the information that Fenris had given her.

In a softened tone, Fenris said, "You must understand that what I ask of you is – rare. If this were any other apprentice of Danarius, I would kill them on the spot. The reason I will not – aside from her leading Danarius to me – is that she was not a torment as the others were. She is a misguided fool, but at least she did not fall to the same level as the others. My debt to her for that small act of mercy will be paid in full when I stay my hand from ending her life."

There was a long moment of silence, then Fenris let out a soft sigh. "Get some sleep. I will stand watch, and we will be on our way after that."

* * *

_58 Days_

* * *

Bethany was anxious to be reunited with the rest of the team. Though Fenris had shown her an unexpected side of himself, Bethany was unsure of how to handle it. Upon waking, she found that the elf had returned to his usual, sullen mannerisms, and seemed unwilling to talk any more on the subject.

Fenris announced that they must be close to the entrance to the thaig, as the air didn't smell quite so stale anymore, and Bethany took heart at the news.

Lapsing back into her own thoughts, Bethany remembered again the brief brush of lips that she and Anders had shared before leaving for the tunnels. She struggled to keep her breath from hitching at the memory, her heart fluttering as she recalled Anders' unique scent clouding her senses. Had it been just an instinctual gesture, faced with separation as they had been? Had Anders kissed her out of pity, knowing full well how terrified she was of forging deeper into the Roads? She didn't want to think so. No, it would be better to cherish the memory for what it was: a beautiful, breathtaking moment between two people, regardless of the catalyst behind it. When she saw him again, she would know better if he'd viewed her as a passing fancy – even then, though, nothing could change what she had felt, and she vowed that her recollections would remain unblemished.

A resounding crash echoed through the tunnel, and Bethany's thoughts were torn back to the present. She exchanged a shocked glance with Fenris, who drew his greatsword. Without a word, they sprinted forward, particles of dust falling around them, glittering with the light that was just visible from this distance. The tunnel's exit was just ahead.

As they reached the precipice, Bethany peered out through the thick cloud of dust that obscured the thaig. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror, and Fenris swore loudly in Arcanum.

The stairway was gone.

Panicking, Bethany listened closely to try and make out what was being said.

"Bartrand! What in the name of Andraste's soggy unmentionables is going on?" Varric's voice echoed from somewhere across the cavern.

From an even greater distance, Bartrand's tone was mocking. "Well, Brother it looks obvious to me: the stairs are gone."

"Oh, and centuries of dwarven craftsmanship just _happen_ to crumble to bits, right when we get back from traipsing around on your bloody errand?" Isabela's voice, though sarcastic as usual, was colder than Bethany had ever heard it. She sincerely hoped that she was never on the receiving end of the pirate's wrath.

Bethany glanced at Fenris as he swore again under his breath. "It is the dwarf who destroyed the stairs. I can see the explosive tracts in the stone."

She didn't want to believe it, praying fervently that this was all some big misunderstanding. However, as her gaze flew to the even break marks where the stairwell had been, and seeing the dark powder staining the grey stone, the proof was undeniable.

"Looks like you and your friends are out of luck, Varric." Bartrand spoke again, malicious amusement steeped into each word. "My scouts explored each of the tunnels ahead of time, and the one we're at the mouth of now leads straight to a cache of treasure. If there _is_ anything down either of yours, you won't find it for a long while."

"Are you kidding me?" Varric laughed nervously. "I know you – you wouldn't screw over your own brother for a handful of coin. What about our partnership?"

A dark chuckle rose from below, then… nothing.

"Bartrand? Bartrand!" Varric bellowed into the now-empty cavern. Bethany heard Isabela mutter something indiscernible to the dwarf, who proceeded to spew a stream of increasingly creative profanities after his traitorous brother. She felt for Varric, and the pain of her own sibling's treachery seared through her once again.

As she forced Carver from her mind and considered their current predicament instead, the outlook wasn't any brighter. Bethany felt her throat tighten, and the corners of her eyes stung with pricks of moisture. Fighting her despair, she grasped an outcrop of rock and peeked around the edge of the tunnel. Through the whorls of dust that were beginning to dissipate, a pair of warm amber eyes locked on hers.

"Bethany." His voice carried across the void, caressing over her and soothing her strained psyche.

She heard jumbled quarreling from Isabela, Varric, and Fenris cease at Anders' voice, but she had ears only for the man who stood staring at her.

"I _will _find you again." At Anders' declaration, other conversation stopped.

"What's this?" Varric asked, a gleam of interest creeping back into his voice. "Blondie, did I just hear you say that _you_ would find Sunshine somewhere in this maze of tunnels? And what are the rest of us – chopped nug liver?"

Isabela clasped her hands together and bounced on her toes, grinning with glee. "Oh, now this is just precious!"

Bethany and Anders ignored them. A flash of light emanated from the healer's staff and shot toward her. Delicate wings became visible as an ethereal lark fluttered close to hover before Bethany. As it bobbed in the air, a kaleidoscope of colors flared down the bird's wings. A piece of parchment was clutched in its beak, and opaque eyes regarded her curiously.

She took the shimmering parchment, and silvery letters flashed across the page.

_You are my song in the darkness. Stay safe._

With a single, melancholy note of song, the bird and message dissolved into flecks of light that faded from view, leaving Bethany to stare at their creator once more. It was a simple spell, but the gesture heartened her more than she could express. Anders smiled, but it did not reach his purpose-filled eyes.

"Ok, kids," Varric said, "Enough of the heart-wrenching goodbyes. Let's see if this 'stone sense' that I've heard so much about really exists! Bethany and Fenris, we'll see you soon. Don't get dead."

As she watched Varric and Isabela disappear back into their tunnel, Bethany watched for Anders to turn after them. The others had already gone before he began to move, but Anders hesitated before looking back at her once more. He pressed two fingers to his lips before extending them out to her. Bethany swallowed hard, and watched him follow the two rogues.

Turning back into her own tunnel, she felt Fenris' eyes upon her. A deep frown cut furrows into his brow as she met his gaze.

"You know, that… _abomination_… is not the only one who can keep you safe."

* * *

**A/N:** _Well, well… things are certainly getting interesting with Fenris now! Not to mention, the group being split up due to Bartrand's (different) betrayal should introduce some urgency to the situation. As always, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! There have been a couple of reviews I've received that do not have the PM feature enabled, so I apologize that I was unable to say thank you that way! In any case, thanks to all of you for your support, and please let me know what you think!_

_Note that this story will be updated (at slowest) on an every other week basis with "Duty and Devotion."_

_Special thanks to the lovely __**Eve Hawke**__ for her beta of this chapter :)_

_-Kyla_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

_54 Days – Varric_

* * *

"Come on, Blondie – tell us what's going on!" Varric's excited voice echoed throughout the tunnel, but Anders ignored him. "You _know_ that if you don't tell me your version I'll just make it up as I go. Our story is just _dying_ for some tragic romance!"

Varric hadn't forgotten his brother's betrayal – not in the slightest – but it wouldn't do to brood over that ass until they got themselves back above ground. No, now was not the time, but as soon as they got to Kirkwall again, he'd have to bring Bianca over for a visit.

"Varric's right, sweetheart," Isabela said, mischief resonant in her tone. "It'll be better if you just tell us what's going on between you and Bethany now. If not, _I_ might even have to contribute to Varric's story a bit! Hmm, now let's see… How about this, Varric? 'From across the chasm, Bethany's lips parted in a soundless gasp as the full impact of Anders' lustful spell took effect on her trembling body.'"

The look on the mage's face was priceless! They'd all seen him spouting fireballs from his hands, and Varric swore that a few of his incendiaries were about ready to spew forth at Rivaini's comment. Varric roared with laughter and reached with exaggerated slowness for his worn, leather-bound journal.

"Say, Rivaini – that's good! Want to repeat it back to me so I can take notes?" Varric's eyes gleamed as he and the pirate dissolved into laughter together.

"So help me, dwarf, if you make up any lies about her, I'll send that little booklet of yours up in smoke." Anders' voice was cold, and his eyes continued to scan the tunnels they traveled.

Despite the apostate's no-nonsense tone, Varric couldn't resist one more jest. "So, when you say no lies about _her_, does that mean that _you_ are still fair game?"

The mage whirled around, eyes blazing. "Enough! We've better things to do than wander these Maker-forsaken pits joking around with one another. Bethany and Fenris are out there somewhere, and we need to find them – and soon – if any of us want to make it out of here alive."

Varric was astonished at how driven Anders had become since they'd discovered the blasted-away stairwells and seen Bethany and Broody from across the thaig. The mage hadn't wanted to stop to sleep, eat, or drink – if he kept going at this rate, the three of _them_ would need to be rescued.

The more he watched the mage, the more Varric couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before – that templar-hating fool was actually falling for Sunshine!

_Ha ha, this story is coming together nicely! It would be even better if Broody managed to catch our Bethany's attention, too, though… _

"Calm down, sugar." Isabela's voice was wheedling as she sidled up next to Anders, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "We'll find those two – but there's no reason we can't have a bit of fun along the way, is there?" She grinned at the raised eyebrow that served as answer. "Oh, lighten up! Just think of all the fun Bethany and Fenris are having – I'm sure they're just a bundle of laughs."

Varric chuckled as he walked behind the other two, hastily scribbling in his journal while the mage's attention was diverted.

_What exactly _are_ those two getting up to? Well, if they're not here to tell me what's going on, I guess it's up to me to fill in the blanks…_

* * *

_54 Days – Bethany and Fenris (according to Varric)_

* * *

Bethany and Fenris stumbled their way through the tunnels, ancient bones and dried deepstalker dung crumbling underfoot (hey, it's the sodding Deep Roads, isn't it?). Their forced separation from Rivaini, Blondie, and especially Varric – their natural leader in these trying times – was causing nerves to fray and tensions to run high.

"Varric will find us," Bethany said with utter conviction. "If there's anyone down here who can bring us to safety, it's him."

"Yes." The elf's sullen tone was predictable, but an undercurrent of respect ran through his words. "And as soon as we are back in Kirkwall, we can help him by finding that good-for-nothing, ugly older brother of his."

Bethany's voice turned cold at the mention of the traitorous Bartrand. "Yes. I think I have just the spell – a lovely little elemental one – to show that dwarf exactly how I feel about him. Nobody gets away with treating my friends that way – not even the Queen of Ferelden."

The pair fell silent, both deep in thought about their current predicament and how best to exact their revenge once that beautiful opportunity came. As they turned a corner, the blue lyrium veins that glowed in the stone gave the soft curves of Bethany's face an ethereal quality. The elf allowed himself a quick glance at the way her hair framed porcelain skin, his fingers twitching in unbidden desire to comb his clawed gauntlets through the raven locks. With an effort, he forced his gaze straight ahead and asked the question that had haunted him since Bartrand's betrayal, willing his voice to remain neutral.

"What is there between you and the mage?" The sparkly interlude from across the abyss hadn't gone unnoticed by Fenris.

_Come to think, who _hadn't_ noticed that? Ah, sweet drama._

Bethany glanced at Fenris from beneath thick lashes, shock flashing across her face. "That – it was nothing."

His brow furrowed, Fenris stopped walking and spun to face Bethany directly. "I was a slave most of my life, and it taught me to notice things the less-observant might miss. You cannot fool me, Bethany, it was _something_," he growled, the markings on his arms flaring to life.

Bethany frowned at his tone – she hadn't spent a year of her life as a smuggler to simply fold like a delicate flower now. "I'm not saying there _is_ anything, Fenris, but even if there were, what is it to you?"

"You deserve better than the likes of him," the elf replied simply, his voice clipped. Even before they had split up to explore the tunnels, it had been as clear as the Grand Cleric's conscience to Varric and the rest of the group that the broody elf was harboring feelings for the lovely mage. Only Blondie seemed oblivious to the actions of his potential competitor. He wasn't here to see anything now, though.

Bethany arched a sculpted brow, her dark eyes still blazing. "'Better than the likes of him?' I suppose by that you mean better than a _mage_? In case you've forgotten, Fenris, I'm also one of those despicable harbingers of all that is evil in the world." Her tone was pure venom, but the elf didn't flinch.

"It's not just that he's an abomination – though that_ is_ part of it. I know his type. He'll use you and toss you away with your heart in pieces. I'm sure the others would agree with me on this."

Bethany laughed without humor. "And I suppose that you think that _you'd_ be the perfect substitute for Anders?"

"Who's to say I'm not?" Fenris stalked closer, a dark and predatory gleam in his narrowed eyes.

Bethany stumbled backward, bumping into the roughly hewn wall. "Fenris, no. You and I both know that you have no interest getting caught up with someone like me." She shook her head in a desperate attempt to dissuade him. "There really isn't anything going on between Anders and me. Just… just leave it alone. We've got to keep moving – there's no point in standing around and acting as though we're caught up in one of Varric's dramatic love stories." She turned her shoulder to edge past Fenris' imposing form.

"Bethany." Her name was a whispered command on his lips, and their eyes locked once more. He leaned forward slowly, purposefully. His lips were mere breaths away from meeting Bethany's soft ones –

"What's that, Blondie?" Varric's pen hovered over the page, his hand trembling to write more. He looked up to see an irate mage, staff pointing into the darkness of the tunnel ahead of them.

"Damnit, dwarf! Put away that blasted book of yours – we're about to have company." Just as Anders shouted, Varric was able to make out a group of seven or eight darkspawn barreling down the passage towards them. Isabela cursed loudly, seizing her daggers and twirling them before slipping into the shadows, presumably to flank their attackers.

_Shit! And I was just getting to the good part, too! This is exactly what our story's been dying for – a good, old-fashioned love triangle. This whole Grey Warden-tainted-psychic stuff really kicks in at all the wrong times. Well, I suppose it _is_ high time that I showed a few darkspawn exactly why they shouldn't mess with dwarves – especially dwarves armed with ruthless ladies such as Bianca, here._

Varric tucked his book into his belt and slung his trusty crossbow off his shoulder. He hummed under his breath as he selected a bolt, and ducked as a spell from the apostate flew hot over his left shoulder. Adopting a wide stance and locking his missile in place, Varric grinned at the nearest genlock with an offhand, "Maker's breath – you really_ are_ an ugly brute, aren't you?" before punching a hole straight through its chest.

* * *

_54 Days – Bethany_

* * *

Bethany wasn't sure how long it had been since she and Fenris had last spoken, and the silence weighed down around her, heavy as Ferelden fog.

"_You know, that… _abomination_… is not the only one who can keep you safe."_

She had been stunned by Fenris' unexpected declaration – she knew him to be a capable fighter, and he had survived more than his fair share of horrific experiences. Why would he feel the need to actually _say_ something like that? Unless… he couldn't actually have feelings for her – a _mage_ – could he? The idea was ludicrous, especially considering how adamantly he had expressed his opinions about her abilities. She thought back to the rest of the conversation that had followed.

"_Fenris, I appreciate your concern, and know how skilled you are, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know."_

"_The situation is more dire than you realize," he growled in frustration. "The only member of our party who can sense these thrice-damned darkspawn is separated from us by what could be miles of solid stone, and as the only two people who have any reasonable amount of skill in picking locks are with _him_, if we run into some sort of bolted door, we could be trapped for untold amounts of time." His eyes had blazed green with anger, and shockingly white hair had swung violently with each jerk of his head as he spoke. "Our only chance is relying on one another, and I'd venture to guess that a lone mage with precious few potions won't last long without a warrior to back her if she were to get into some sort of trouble. Don't wander off, and don't allow any thoughts of that _man_ to cloud your judgment."_

He'd been right, of course. Bethany was exceedingly aware of the fact that she wouldn't stand a chance of survival on her own in the Deep Roads. She thought back to the times she and Marian had played in the woods as children – even then her sense of direction was hopeless, and that was with the sun and landmarks to guide her. She had laughed off her ineptitudes then, completely certain that her older sister would always be there to tweak her braid, grab her hand, and lead her back to the comfort and safety of home.

Marian wasn't here any longer, and although Bethany's skill had grown considerably since those carefree days, she couldn't allow herself to forget what her father had taught her from the beginning.

"_A mage is only as good as knowing – and respecting – their own limits."_

It had been her father's words racing through her head that had caused Bethany to bite her tongue before saying anything further to provoke Fenris.

After that, the only words spoken had been to alert one another to take their turn at watch while the other slept fitfully, or to ask the other's opinion when the tunnel forked. Though they had only reached two such junctures, Bethany couldn't help but feel that they were hopelessly lost in an endless maze, buried miles under the surface. The nasty thought had crept up on her more than once, and each time it did, hilarity threatened to bubble forth as she thought wildly of them popping up out of the ground like two very dirty, over-large daisies somewhere in Ferelden.

_Maker, I think this lack of fresh air and friendly conversation is getting to me_.

She was suddenly acutely aware of how tired she was. As they had no way to telling what time it was or how long they had been traveling since they last rested, Bethany felt certain that it had been days at least. Every muscle in her body ached, and the soles of her feet had long since lost feeling. Her legs wobbled and knees shook with each step, and her skin felt like rubber as she lost all feeling to her lower extremities, stumbling as the numbness came and went. With trembling hands, she brought her water-skin to her lips to wet her parched tongue. As the cool water trickled down her throat, she sighed and reached her free hand up to wipe a stray hair out of her eyes.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, and the sudden movement caused her head to swim and vision to blur, and the ground abruptly lurched up to meet her. She found herself on her knees, the remaining water from the skin sloshing onto the ground and seeping into her robes. She closed her eyes and thought she heard Fenris say something – perhaps in Arcanum? – but her ears were buzzing and the sounds that filtered through were distorted. She opened her eyes with effort, and the emerald depths of his own swam into focus.

"Come on," he said gruffly, pulling her with surprising gentleness to her feet, "let's get you someplace a bit more comfortable than this pile of gravel you're kneeling in."

At his words, she became intensely aware of the sharp pain in her knees, and she stumbled beside Fenris, whose strong arm shot out to steady her. Surprisingly gentle hands lowered her to the ground and propped her against a relatively smooth expanse of the wall. She gingerly lifted her robes to see small cuts marring her legs where she had fallen hard.

Fenris shook his head and mumbled, "I apologize. Sometimes I forget how much more stamina I have compared to others – it is another effect of the markings I bear."

Bethany nodded, feeling better already now that she was sitting.

_Perhaps we really _have_ been walking for days, if what Fenris implies is true_.

"Rest for a moment. Once you have recovered, we should move further, as this is not a secure location if we were to be ambushed." As he spoke, Fenris' eyes darted up and down the hall, searching for anything that might be lurking. "I'll be gone only a moment – I'll look ahead to see if there is any reasonable place to make camp."

As the elf scouted, Bethany rummaged in her pack for a piece of dried venison, her stomach roiling in protest as the gamey scent reached her nostrils. She gingerly ate small bites of the chewy food, knowing that she needed the nourishment. Shifting to find a more comfortable position, she flinched as she felt the sting of her legs, and winched as she realized the cloth of her robe had stuck to a particularly nasty gash. She gingerly peeled her garment away, and pulled into the cool, clean flow of mana within her – soothing relief was felt immediately as her flesh knit itself back together, and she felt her strength begin to return as she sipped at water.

Bethany barely heard the elf's quiet footfalls as he returned, and kept her head against the chill stone at her back. She looked up as he spoke. "There is an area not far ahead that should be sufficiently defensible. If you feel up to going a bit further, we can stop to recover there for a time."

Bethany nodded and rose with a grimace to follow Fenris. After a short time they entered a crevice in the wall that led into a miniature cavern.

"Do you know any spells that could disguise the entrance or muffle sounds?" Fenris asked quietly as he set his pack down.

Bethany glanced at him before nodding slowly, surprised that he would condone the use of magic. Though she was tired from healing herself, Bethany rose and faced the opening. With an outstretched hand, Bethany murmured and a glimmer of blue light flashed and swirled around the entrance before dissipating. Her strength nearly gone, Bethany stumbled back to her pack and shook out her bedroll with trembling hands. She arranged herself into a comfortable position, and was nearly asleep when the elf's deep voice spoke once more.

"I am… sorry."

Though her eyelids must have weighed ten pounds each, she forced them back open as she turned to look at the elf. "For what, Fenris?"

He was perched on his bedroll with his knees pulled up to his chest, and his shoulders were held high with tension. "I should have recognized your fatigue earlier. Mistakes such as this on my part – and yours, for not saying something – could be devastating if we encounter darkspawn in such a run-down state."

"'s ok," Bethany replied. The twinkling lights that adorned the top of the small cave were soothing, and she was finding it impossible to resist the urge to sleep. She thought that he might be saying something, or that he had perhaps shifted into a more comfortable position, but could not tell for certain through her haze of exhaustion. Her eyes dropped shut, and the touch of a calloused hand brushing her hair from her cheek could only have been a dream.

* * *

**A/N:** _Hello dear readers! I'm sorry about the slight delay getting this chapter posted – real life has been crazy these past couple of weeks! Thank you so much to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting – you're all wonderful __ Additionally, a big welcome and thank you to the new followers since the last chapter! _

_I have had lots of questions about who the ultimate romance for Bethany is going to be, and I'm actually glad that I've got people guessing – presumably, that means you're actually interested enough to hang on and find out! I have put up a new poll on my profile which gives you the option to vote for your favorite romance option for Bethany… this will not affect my decision (because to be perfectly honest, it's really Bethany's decision, not mine… I'm just along for this crazy ride!), but I like to see what people think. _

_Last but not least, a huge thank you goes to Miss __**Eve Hawke**__ for taking the time to help me polish up this chapter. Also (*cues drum roll*), today, March 19__th__, marks her __**one year anniversary**__ to this site! Woohoo - congrats and cake to Eve! I'd definitely suggest going and taking a look at her incredible stories! _

_Thanks again to all of you for reading! -Kyla_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – An Interlude

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_Varric_

* * *

"Oy! Varric, darling – look at what I've found!"

Varric glanced up at Isabela. He had just finished cleaning Bianca of the viscous, black goop that the darkspawn had had the gall to spray everywhere when his bolts had taken them down. The pirate was crouched amidst the bodies of several of the creatures they had taken care of, carelessly rifling through their few possessions for anything useful.

"Oh, come on, Rivaini – don't tell me you actually see anything you _like_ on these monsters?"

The pirate raised an eyebrow and gave a devilish grin. "Unless this 'stone sense' you've been raving about actually decides to pay us a visit before we all starve to death down here, no." She pulled a roll of parchment from behind her back, waggling it invitingly.

"What in the name of my brother's bloody paragons do you have there?" As he sauntered forward, Varric got a better look of the yellowed paper, and didn't even want to know what had caused the rest of assorted stains on it.

"I'm not really sure," Isabela mused, gingerly switching the parchment from one hand to the other. "Maybe our resident Grey Warden might have an inkling?" She eyed the mage in question as he picked his way through corpses to meet up with them, an eyebrow cocked in question.

Anders took the parchment without comment, and gently unrolled it, wincing at the cracking sound of old, tearing paper. His eyes darted across the page before widening in disbelief.

"Well, don't keep us hanging here, Blondie," Varric goaded, "what's the big deal? Are these things more literate than we give them credit for?"

"Actually," Anders began, keeping his eyes on the papers, "it seems that they are. This is a map – it's written entirely in Thedosian, in fact. How did the darkspawn get hold of these…" He thumbed through the pages.

"Anything useful in there, or are they all passages leading to Orzammar?" Varric stepped closer to peer at the scribbles across the pages depicting roads, forests, cities, and underground entrances.

"It looks like this might be just what we need, actually," Anders said quietly, his finger tracing the small, calligraphic characters on one page. "Yes! These three maps are the entire underground system that we're in right now!" He hastily shuffled through the pages in question, dropping several others in the process. With a growl of frustration and flick of his wrist, a soft, green light rose from his palm to hover between the three of them, illuminating the maps far more clearly than the dim lyrium veins had.

"Is it just me," began Isabela, her slender finger pointing at a spot on one of the maps, "or is this where we are right now?"

Anders snatched the page, holding it closer to the wisp that bobbed in the air. Hope was palpable, and Varric thought idly of how best to elaborate on the finding of the useful maps… perhaps he could fight off an ogre single-handedly to gain access to a locked chest that holds them? No, a pack of deepstalkers would be more dramatic.

"You're right," Anders' voice broke through his reverie. "This is exactly the tunnel we must be in, which means..." He trailed off and traced their path ahead. "There."

Isabela and Varric exchanged glances, neither of them having understood what the mage was talking about.

Isabela grinned and looked over Anders' shoulder before asking for clarification. "Um, sweetheart, you're going to have to spell it out for us simple folk. What's 'there'?"

Anders whirled around, his eyes blazing with purpose. "Our tunnel meets up with the one that runs parallel to it up ahead – can't be more than a few miles according to this scale. Don't you see? That's the tunnel the elf and Bethany are in."

Varric saw his own shock reflected in the pirate's face before he recovered quickly. Never one to sit idly by while there were adventures to be had and tales to be told, he brushed the dirt from his jacket and motioned to the other two to follow.

"In that case, Blondie, we'd best get moving."

* * *

**A/N**: _Well, dear readers, I have some sad news: my Firebird muse seems to have deserted me. Fear not! I have *every* intention of finishing Bethany's story – I love it dearly, but the words have been very forced as of late. I have decided to focus on "Duty and Devotion" for the time being, as that story is simply begging to be written, and when the mood strikes, I'll work on this as well. I would be doing a disservice to both my story and my readers if I tried to force this story to come out when it wasn't happening. I hope that you will stick with me while I wait this dry spell out, and maybe even check out D&D if you are enjoying this in the meantime :) _

_Thank you to all of you for your incredible support as I've worked on Firebird, and I promise that I'll work on it as the inspiration hits! Thank you as well to my dear __**Eve Hawke **__for her beta, and to all of the other writers in the group I'm a part of for constant words of encouragement, and for helping me come to the difficult decision to focus on one story rather than try to hash out two and have them both suffer._

_Hugs and Love, Kyla_


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